ftr 


USf 

UNIV. 

RIVE! 


"OKI*  in 


VIEWS  A-FOOT: 

OR 

EUROPE  SEEN  WITH  KNAPSACK 
AND  STAFF 

BY 

BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

A  PREFACE  BY  N.  P.  WILLIS. 


jog  on,  jog  on,  the  foot-path  way, 
And  merrily  hent  the  stile-a  •, 

A  merry  heart  goes  au  tne  Gay, 
Your  sad  tires  in  a  mile-a. 

—  Winter's  TtUt. 


NEW  YORK-. 

WM.    L    ALLISON    COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS. 


hi 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER.  FAM. 

I.    The  Voyag* 15 

II.    A  Day  in  Ireland, 23 

in.  Ben  Lomond  and  the  Highland  Lakes,    ...    29 

IV.    The  Burns'  Festival, 40 

V.  Walk  from  Edinburgh  over  the  Border  and 

arrival  at  London, 48 

VI.  Some  of  the  "Sights"  of  London..    ...         .59 

VII.    Flight  through  Belgium,       68 

VIII.    The  Rhine  to  Heidelberg, 75 

IX.    Scenes  in  and  around  Heidelberg, 82 

X.    A  Walk  through  the  Odenwald, 92 

XL  Scenes  in  Frankfort — An  American  Composer 

—The  Poet  Freiligrath, 99 

XII.    A  Week  among  the  Students, 109 

XIII.  Christmas  and  New  Year  in  Germany,    .    .    .  116 

XIV.  Winter  in  Frankfort — A  Fair,  an  Inundation 

and  a  Fire, 122 

XV.    The    Dead   and   the   Deaf — Mendelssohn   the 

Composer, 133 

XVI.    Journey  on  Foot  from  Frankfort  to  Cassel,    .  139 
XVII.    Adventures  among  the  Hartz,    ......  146 

XVIII.    Notes  in  Leipsic  and  Dresden,    ......  158 

XIX.    Rambles  in  the  Saxon  Switzerland,     .    .    .     .  1G9 

XX.    Scenes  in  Prague, 179 

XXI.    Journey  through  Eastern  Bohemia  and  Mo- 
ravia to  the  Danubej 186 

XXII     Vienna, 194 

XXIII.   Up  the  Danube, 212 


6  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTM.  FA<31. 

XXIV.    The  Unknown  Student, 320 

XXV.    The  Austrian  Alps, 223 

XXVI.    Munich, 234 

XXVII.    Through  Wurtemberg  to  Heidelberg,  .    .  248 
XXVIII.    Freiburg  and  the  Black  Forest,    ....  258 
XXIX.    People  and  Places  in  Eastern  Switzerland,  268 
XXX.    Passage  of  St.  Gothard  and  descent  into 

Italy, 279 

XXXI.    Milan, 292 

XXXII.    Walk  from  Milan  to  Genoa, 298 

XXXIII.  Scenes  in  Genoa,  Leghorn  and  Pisa,    .    .  304 

XXXIV.  Florence  and  its  Galleries, 316 

XXXV.    Pilgrimage  to  Vallombrosa, 330 

XXXVI.    Walk  to  Siena  and  Pratolino — Incidents 

in  Florence, 338 

XXXVTI.     American  Art  in  Florence, 351 

XXXVIII.    An  Adventure  on  the  Great  St.  Bernard — 

Walks  around  Florence, 360 

XXXIX.    Winter  Travelling  among  the  Apennines,  369 

XL.    Rome, 382 

XLI.    Tivoli  and  the  Roman  Campagna,    .    .    .  399 
XLII.    Tivoli  and  the  Roman  Campagna,  (con- 
tinued),      408 

XLIII.    Pilgrimage  to  Vancluse  and  Journey  up 

the  Rhone, 415 

XLIV.    Travelling  in  Burgundy— The  Miseries  of 

a  Country  Diligence, 429 

XLV.    Poetical  Scenes  in  Paris, 436 

XLVI.    A  Glimpse  of  Normandy, 444 

XLVII.    Lockhart,  Bernard  Barton  and  Croly— 

London  Chimes  and  Greenwich  Fair,   449 

XLVIII.    Homeward  Bound— Conclusion,    ....  458 

XLIX.    Advice  and  Information  for  Ped*rtrians;  469 


TO  THE  READER. 


In  presenting  to  the  public  a  new  and  im- 
proved  edition  of  this  record  of  his  wanderings, 
the  author  could  not  justly  suffer  the  oppor- 
tunity to  go  by,  without  expressing  his  grate- 
ful acknowledgment  of  the  kindness  with  which 
his  work  has  been  received.  Although  his  aim 
was  simply  to  give  a  narrative  of  personal  ex- 
perience, which  it  was  hoped  might  be  of  some 
value  to  many  a  toiling  student  in  the  college 
of  the  world,  he  was  aware  that  it  would  be 
considered  a  test  of  his  literary  ability,  and 
that  whatever  hearing  he  might  have  hoped 
to  obtain  for  the  works  of  maturer  years, 
would  be  dependent  on  its  success.  With  a  to- 
tal ignorance  of  the  arts  of  book-making,  and 
uncertain  whether  a  new  voice  from  the  track 
where  thousands  had  been  before  him,  would 
find  a  patient  auditory,  it  was  therefore  not 
without  considerable  anxiety  that  he  gave  his 
volume  to  the  world.  But  he  was  not  prepared 
to  hope  for  such  an  immediate  and  generous 
favor  as  it  received.  By  the  press  of  our  coun- 
try, as  well  as  the  more  rigid  reviewers  of  Great 
Britain,  whatever  merits  it  possesses  were  cor- 
dially appreciated,  while  its  faults  were  but 
lightly  touched — perhaps  from  a  sympathy  with 
the  youth  of  the  author  and  the  plan  of  his 
enthusiastic  pilgrimage.  But  what  was  most 
grateful  of  all,  he  learned  that  many  anothei 
young  and  hopeful  spirit  had  been  profited  and 
encouraged  by  his  own  experience,  and  was 
ready  to  try  the  world  with  as  little  dependence 
on  worldly  means.  The  letters  he  received  from 


8  TO   THE  READER. 

persons  whose  hopes  and  circumstances  were 
what  his  own  had  been,  gave  welcome  evidence 
that  he  had  not  written  in  vain.  He  will  not 
say  that  this  knowledge  repaid  him  for  what- 
ever toil  and  hardship  he  had  undergone;  who- 
ever is  subjected  to  the  same  experience  will 
learn  that  it  brings  its  own  reward  to  the  mind ; 
— but  it  will  nerve  him  henceforth  to  bear  any 
lot,  however  severe,  through  which  he  may  be 
enabled  to  say  a  word  that  shall  cheer  or 
strengthen  another. 

He  is  now  fully  aware  how  much  he  has  omit- 
ted from  these  pages,  which  would  have  been 
curious  and  perhaps  instructive  to  the  reader; 
— how  many  blunders  of  inexperience ;  how  much 
thoughtless  confidence  in  the  world ;  how  many 
painful  struggles  with  pride,  and  a  too-selfish 
independence ;  how  many  strange  extremities  of 
want  and  amusing  expedients  of  relief.  His  re- 
luctance to  relate  much  that  was  entirely  per- 
sonal and  could  not  have  been  told  without 
some  little  sacrifice  of  feeling,  has  since  been  re- 
gretted, from  the  belief  that  it  might  have  been 
useful  to  others.  Perhaps,  however,  it  will  be 
better  that  each  one  should  learn  these  lessons 
for  himself.  There  is  a  sensation  of  novelty, 
which,  even  in  the  most  embarrassing  situa- 
tions, produces  a  desperate  kind  of  enjoyment, 
and  in  addition  to  this,  the  sufferer's  sympa- 
thies for  humanity  are  very  much  deepened  and 
enlarged  by  an  acquaintance  with  its  trials. 

In  preparing  the  present  edition  of  his  book, 
the  author  at  first  contemplated  a  complete  re- 
vision. The  fact  that  seven  editions  had  been 
sold  in  a  year  and  a  half  from  the  publication, 
seemed  to  require  that  he  should  make  such  im- 
provements as  his  riper  judgment  suggested, 
and  which  should  render  it  more  worthy  of  so 
extensive  a  circulation.  But  further  reflection 
convinced  him  that  it  would  be  best  to  make 
little  change.  It  was  written  during  his  wan- 


TO  TH£  READER.  » 

derings— partly  by  the  wayside,  when  resting  at 
mid-day,  and  partly  on  the  rough  tables  of 
peasant  inns,  in  the  stillness  of  deserted  ruins, 
or  amid  the  sublime  solitude  of  the  mountain- 
top.  It  thus  reflects  faithfully  the  impress  of 
his  own  mind,  in  every  part  of  the  journey,  and 
he  would  prefer  that  it  should  remain  a  boyish 
work,  however  lacking  in  finish  of  composition, 
rather  than  risk  taking  away  whatever  spirit  it 
may  have  caught  from  nature.  Some  particu- 
lars, which  have  been  desired  by  persons  about 
to  undertake  a  similar  journey,  and  which  may 
be  generally  interesting,  have  been  given  in  a 
new  chapter  at  the  close.  With  this  addition, 
and  that  of  a  sketch  illustrating  the  costume  of 
a  pedestrian,  which  has  been  made  by  a  poet 
and  artist  friend,  the  work  is  again  given  to  the 
public.  The  author  may  hereafter  be  better 
able  to  deserve  their  commendation.  His  wan- 
derings are  not  yet  over. 

NEW-YORK,  August,  1848. 


PREFACE. 


BY  N.  P.  WILLIS. 

The  book  which  follows,  requires  little  or  no 
introduction.  It  tells  its  own  story,  and  tel]s  it 
well.  The  interest  in  it,  which  induces  the  writer 
of  this  preface  to  be  its  usher  to  the  public,  is 
simply  that  of  his  having  chanced  to  be  among 
the  first  appreciators  of  the  author's  talent— 
an  appreciation  that  has  since  been  so  more  than 
justified,  that  the  writer  is  proud  to  call  the  au- 
thor of  this  book  his  friend,  and  bespeak  atten- 
tion to  the  peculiar  energies  he  has  displayed 
in  travel  and  authorship.  Mr.  Taylor's  poetical 
productions  while  he  was  still  a  printer's  appren- 
tice, made  a  strong  impression  on  the  writer's 
mind,  and  he  gave  them  their  due  of  praise  ac- 
cordingly in  the  newspaper  of  which  he  was  then 
Editor.  Some  correspondence  ensued,  and  other 
fine  pieces  of  writing  strengthened  the  admira- 
tion thus  awakened,  and  when  the  young  poet- 
mechanic  came  to  the  city,  and  modestly  an- 
nounced the  bold  determination  of  visiting  for- 
eign lands — with  means,  if  they  could  be  got,  but 
with  reliance  on  manual  labor  if  they  could  not — 
the  writer,  understanding  the  man,  and  seeing 
how  capable  he  was  of  carrying  out  his  manly 
and  enthusiastic  scheme,  a-nd  that  it  would  work 
uncorruptingly  for  the  improvement  of  his  mind 
and  character,  counselled  him  to  go.  He  went — 
his  book  tells  how  successfully  for  all  his  pur- 
poses. He  has  returned,  after  two  years'  ab- 
sence, with  large  knowledge  of  the  world,  of 
men  and  of  manners,  with  a  pure,  invigorated 


12  PRRFA  CB. 

and  healthy  mind,  having  passed  all  this  time 
abroad,  and  seen  and  accomplished  more  than 
most  travelers.  ;it  the  cost  ofonlySXOO,  unfit  his 
sum  c;>rned  on  the  road.  This,  in  the  writer's 
opinion,  is  a  fine  instancy  of  character  and  en- 
ergy. The  book,  which  records  the  difficulties 
and  struggles  of  a  printer's  apprentice  achieving 
this,  must  be  interesting  to  Americans.  The 
pride  of  the  country  is  in  its  self-made  men. 

What  Mr.  Taylor  is,  or  what  he  is  yet  to  be- 
come, cannot  well  be  touched  upon  here,  but 
that  it  will  yet  be  written,  and  on  a  bright 
paire,  is,  of  course,  his  o\vn  confident  hope  and 
the  writer's  confident  expectation.  The  book, 
which  is  the  record  of  his  progress  thus  far.  is 
now  cordially  commended  to  the  public,  and  it 
will  be  read,  perhaps,  more  understanding!  v  after 
a  perusal  of  the  following  outline  sketch  of  the 
difficulties  the  author  had  to  contend  with — a 
letter  written  in  reply  to  a  note  from  the  writer 
asking  for  some  of  the  particulars  ol  his  start 
and  progress: 

To  Mr.  Willis  — 

MY  DEAR  SIP' — 

Nearly  three  y^ars  ago  (in  the  beginning  of 
1844)  the  time  for  accomplishing  my  long  cher- 
ished desire  of  visiting  Europe,  seemed  to  arrive. 
A  cousin,  who  had  long  intended  going  abroad, 
was  to  leave  in  a  few  months,  and  although  I 
was  then  surrounded  by  the  most  unfavorable 
circumstances,  I  determined  to  accompany  him, 
at  whatever  hazard.  I  had  still  two  years  of 
my  apprenticeship  to  serve  out;  I  was  entirely 
without  means,  and  .my  project  was  strongly 
opposed  by  my  friends,  as  something  too  vis- 
ionary to  be  practicable.  A  short  time  before 
Mr.  (iriswold  advised  me  to  publish  a  small 
volume  of  youthful  effusions,  a  few  of  which  had 
appeared  in  Graham's  Magazine,  which  he  then 
edited ;  the  idea  struck  me,  that  by  so  doing,  I 


PREFA  CB.  18 

might,  if  they  should  be  favorably  noticed,  ob- 
tain a  newspaper  correspondence  which  would 
enable  me  to  make  the  start. 

The  volume  was  published;  a  sufficient  num- 
ber was  sold  among  my  friends  to  defray  all  ex- 
penses, and  it  was  charitably  noticed  by  the 
Philadelphia  press.  Some  literary  friends,  to 
whom  I  confided  my  design,  promised  to  aid  me 
with  their  influence.  Trusting  to  this,  I  made 
arrangements  for  leaving  the  printing-office, 
which  I  succeeded  in  doing,  by  making  a  certain 
compensation  for  the  remainder  of  my  time.  I 
was  now  fully  confident  of  success,  feeling  satis- 
fied, that  a  strong  will  would  always  make  itself 
a  way.  After  many  applications  to  different 
editors  and  as  many  disappointments,  I  finally 
succeeded,  about  two  weeks  before  our  departure, 
in  making  a  partial  engagement.  Mr.  Chandler, 
of  the  United  States  Gazette,  and  Mr.  Patterson, 
of  the  Saturday  Evening  Post,  paid  me  fifty  dol- 
lars, each,  in  advance  for  twelve  letters,  to  be  sent 
from  Europe,  with  the  probability  of  accepting 
more,  if  these  should  be  satisfactory.  This,  with 
a  sum  which  I  received  from  Mr.  Graham  for 
poems  published  in  his  Magazine,  put  me  in  pos- 
session of  about  a  hundred  and  forty  dollars, 
with  which  I  determined  to  start,  trusting  to 
future  remuneration  for  letters,  or  if  that  should 
fail,  to  my  skill  as  a  compositor,  for  I  supposed 
I  could  at  the  worst,  work  my  way  through  Eu- 
rope, like  the  German  hand  werker.  Thus,  with 
another  companion,  we  left  home,  an  enthusiastic 
and  hopeful  trio. 

I  need  not  trace  our  wanderings  at  length. 
After  eight  months  of  suspense,  during  which 
time  my  small  means  were  entirely  exhausted,  I 
received  a  letter  from  Mr.  Patterson,  continuing 
the  engagement  for  the  remainder  of  my  stay, 
with  a  remittance  of  one  hundred  dollars  from 
himself  and  Mr.  Graham.  Other  remittances, 
received  from  time  to  time,  enabled  me  to  stay 


14,  PItS  FA  CS. 

abroad  two  years,  during  which  I  traveled  on 
foot  upwards  of  three  thousand  miles  in  Germany, 
Switzerland,  Italy  and  France.  I  was  obliged, 
however,  to  use  the  strictest  economy — to  live  on 
pilgrim  fare,  and  to  do  penance  in  ruin  and  cold. 
My  means  several  times  entirely  failed;  but  I  was 
always  relieved  from  serious  difficulty  through 
unlooked-for  friends,  or  some  unexpected  turn  of 
fortune.  At  Rome,  owing  to  the  expenses  and 
embarrassments  of  traveling  in  Italy,  I  was 
obliged  to  give  up  my  original  design  of  pro- 
ceeding on  foot  to  Naples  and  across  the  penin- 
sula to  Otranto,  sailing  thence  to  Corfu  and 
making  a  pedestrian  journey  through  Albania 
and  Greece.  But  the  main  object  of  my  pilgrim  age 
is  accomplished ;  I  visited  the  principal  places  of 
interest  in  Europe,  enjoyed  her  grandest  scenery 
and  the  marvels  of  ancient  and  modern  art, 
became  familiar  with  other  languages,  other  cus- 
toms and  other  institutions,  and  returned  home, 
after  two  years'  absence,  willing  now,  with  sat- 
isfied curiosity,  to  resume  life  in  America. 

Yours,  most  sincerely, 

J.  BAYABD  TAYLOR. 


VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

CHAPTER  I 

THE     VOYAGE. 

An  enthusiastic  desire  of  visiting1  the  Old 
World  haunted  me  from  early  childhood.  I 
cherished  a  presentiment,  amounting  almost  to 
belief,  that  I  should  one  day  behold  the  scenes, 
among  which  my  fancy  had  so  long  wandered. 
The  want  of  means  was  for  a  time  a  serious 
check  to  my  anticipations ;  but  I  could  not  con- 
tent myself  to  wait  until  I  had  slowly  accumu- 
lated so  large  a  sum  as  tourists  usually  spend 
on  their  travels.  It  seemed  to  me  that  a  more 
humble  method  of  seeing  the  world  would  place 
within  the  power  of  almost  every  one,  what  has 
hitherto  been  deemed  the  privilege  of  the  wealthy 
few.  Such  a  journey,  too,  offered  advantages 
for  becoming  acquainted  with  people  as  well  as 
places — for  observing  more  intimately,  the  effect 
of  government  and  education,  and  more  than 
all,  for  the  study  of  human  nature,  in  every  con- 
dition of  life.  At  length  I  became  possessed  of  a 
small  sum,  to  be  earned  by  letters  descriptive  of 
things  abroad,  and  on  the  1st  of  July,  1844,  set 
sail  for  Liverpool,  with  a  relative  and  friend, 
whose  circumstances  were  somewhat  similar  to 
mine.  How  far  the  success  of  the  experiment 
and  the  object  of  our  long  pilgrimage  were  at- 
tained, these  pages  will  show. 


M  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 


LAND   AND   SEA. 

There  are  springs  that  rise  in  the  greenwood's  heart 

Where  its  leafy  glooms  are  cast, 
And  the  branches  droop  in  the  solemn  air, 

Unstirred  by  the  sweeping  blast, 
There  are  hills  that  lie  in  the  noontide  calm, 

On  the  lap  of  the  quiet  earth; 
And  crowned  with  gold  by  the  ripened  grain, 

Surround  my  place  of  birth. 

Dearer  are  these  to  my  pining  heart, 

Than  the  beauty  of  the  deep, 
When  the  moonlight  falls  in  a  belt  of  gold 

On  the  waves  that  heave  in  sleep. 
The  rustling  talk  of  the  clustered  leaves 

That  shade  a  well-known  door, 
IB  sweeter  far  than  the  booming  sound 

Of  the  breaking  wave  before. 

When  night  on  the  ocean  sinks  calmly  down, 

I  climb  the  vessel's  prow, 
Where  the  foam-wreath  glows  with  its  phosphor  light 

Like  a  crown  on  a  sea-nymph's  brow. 
Above,  through  the  lattice  of  rope  and  spar, 

The  stars  in  their  beauty  burn; 
And  the  spirit  longs  to  ride  their  beams, 

And  back  to  the  loved  return. 

They  say  that  the  sunset  is  brighter  faf 

When  it  sinks  behind  the  sea; 
That  the  stars  shine  out  with  a  softer  fire — 

Not  thus  they  seem  to  me. 
Dearer  the  flush  of  the  crimson  west 

Through  trees  that  my  childhood  knew, 
When  the  star  of  love,  with  its  silver  lamp, 

Lights  the  homes  of  the  tried  and  true! 

Could  one  live  on  the  sense  of  beauty  alone, 
exempt  from  the  necessity  of  "creature  com- 
forts," a  sea-voyage  would  be  delightful.  To 
the  landsman  there  is  sublimity  in  the  wild  nnd 
ever-varied  forms  of  the  ocean;  they  fill  his 
mind  with  living  images  of  a  glory  he  had  only 
dreamed  of  before.  But  we  would  have  been 
willing  to  forego  all  this  and  get  back  the  com- 
forts of  the  shore.  At  New  York  we  took  pas- 


THE  A  TLANTIC.  17 

sage  in  the  second  cabin  of  the  Oxford,  which, 
as  usual  in  the  Liverpool  packets,  consisted  of  a 
small  space  amid-ships,  fitted  up  with  rough, 
temporary  berths.  The  communication  with 
the  deck  is  by  an  open  hatch-way,  which  in 
storms'  is  closed  down.  As  the  passengers  in 
this  cabin  furnish  their  own  provisions,  we 
made  ourselves  acquainted  with  the  contents  of 
certain  storehouses  on  Pine  St.  wharf,  and  pur- 
chased a  large  box  of  provisions,  which  was 
stowed  away  under  our  narrow  berth.  The 
cook,  for  a  small  compensation,  took  on  him- 
self the  charge  of  preparing  them,  and  we  made 
ourselves  as  comfortable  as  the  close,  dark 
dwelling  would  admit. 

As  Ave  approached  the  Banks  of  Newfoundland, 
a  gale  arose,  which  for  two  days  and  nights 
carried  us  on,  careering  Mazeppa-like,  up  hill  and 
down.  The  sea  looked  truly  magnificent,  al- 
though the  sailors  told  us  it  was  nothing  at  all 
in  comparsion  with  the  storms  of  winter.  But 
we  were  not  permitted  to  pass  the  Banks,  with- 
out experiencing  one  of  the  calms,  for  which  that 
neighborhood  is  noted.  For  three  days  we  lay 
almost  motionless  on  the  glassy  water,  some- 
times surrounded  by  large  flocks  of  sea-gulls. 
The  weed  brought  by  the  gulf  stream,  floated 
around — some  branches  we  fished  up,  were  full  of 
beautiful  little  shells.  Once  a  large  school  of 
black-fish  came  around  the  vessel,  and  the  car- 
penter climbed  down  on  the  fore-chains,  with  a 
harpoon  to  strike  one.  Scarcely  had  he  taken 
his  position,  when  they  all  darted  off  in  a  straight 
line,  through  the  water,  and  were  soon  out  of 
eight.  He  said  they  smelt  the  harpoon. 

We  congratulated  ourselves  on  having  reached 
the  Banks  in  seven  days,  as  it  is  considered  the 
longest  third-part  of  the  passage.  But  the  hopes 
of  reaching  Liverpool  in  twenty  days,  were  soon 
overthrown.  A  succession  of  southerly  winds 
drove  the  vessel  as  far  north  as  lat.  55  deg.> 


18  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

without  bringing  us  much  nearer  our  aestma- 
tiou.  It  was  extremely  cold,  for  we  were  but  five 
degrees  south  of  the  latitude  of  Greenland,  and 
the,  long  northern  twilights  came  on.  The  last 
glow  of  the  evening  twilight  had  scarcely  faded, 
before  the  first  glimmering  of  dawn  appeared.  I 
found  it  extremely  easy  to  read,  at  10  P.  AI., 
on  the  deck. 

We  had  much  diversion  on  board  from  a  com- 
pany of  Iowa  Indians,  under  the  celebrated  chief 
"White  Cloud,"  who  are  on  Q  visit  to  England. 
They  are  truly  a  wild  enough  looking  company, 
and  helped  not  a  little  to  relieve  the  tedium  of 
the  passage.  The  chief  was  a  very  grave  and 
dignified  person,  but  some  of  the  braves  were 
merry  enough.  One  day  we  had  a  war-dance  on 
deck,  which  was  a  most  ludicrous  scene.  The 
chief  and  two  braves  sat  upon  the  deck,  beating 
violently  a  small  drum  and  howling  forth  their 
war-song,  while  the  others  in  full  dress,  painted 
in  a  grotesque  style,  leaped  about,  brandishing 
tomahawks  and  spears,  and  terminating  each 
dance  with  a.  terrific  yell.  Some  of  the  men  are 
very  fine-looking,  but  the  squaws  are  all  ugly. 
They  occupied  part  of  the  second  cabin,  separa- 
ted only  by  a  board  partition  from  our  room. 
This  proximity  was  anything  but  agreeable. 
They  kept  us  awake  more  than  half  the  night, 
by  singing  and  howling  in  the  most  dolorous 
manner,  with  the  accompaniment  of  slapping 
their  hands  violently  on  their  bare  breasts.  We 
tried  an  opposition,  and  a  young  German  stu- 
dent, who  was  returning  home  after  two  years' 
travel  in  America,  made  our  room  ring  with  the 
chorus  from  Der  Freishutz— but  in  vain.  They 
would  howl  and  beat  their  breasts,  and  the 
pappoose  would  squall.  Any  loss  of  temper  is 
therefore  not  to  be  wondered  at,  when  I  state 
that  I  could  scarcely  turn  in  my  berth,  much 
less  stretch  mvself  out ;  my  cramped  limbs  alono 
drove  off  half  the  night's"  slumber. 


FIRST  SIGHT  OF  LAND.  19 

It  was  a  pleasure,  at  least,  to  gaze  on  their 
strong  athletic  frames.  Their  massive  chests  and 
powerful  limbs  put  to  shame  pur  dwindled  pro- 
portions. One  old  man,  in  particular,  who  seemed 
the  patriarch  of  the  band,  used  to  stand  for 
hours  on  the  quarter  deck,  sublime  and  mo- 
tionless as  a  statue  of  Jupiter.  An  interesting 
incident  occurred  during  the  calm  of  which  I 
spoke.  They  began  to  be  fearful  we  were  doomed 
to  remain  there  forever,  unless  the  spirits  were 
invoked  for  a  favorable  wind.  Accordingly  the 
prophet  lit  his  pipe  and  smoked  with  great  de- 
liberation, muttering  all  the  while  in  a  low  voice. 
Then,  having  obtained  a  bottle  of  beer  from  the 
captain,  he  poured  it  solemnly  over  the  stern  of 
the  vessel  into  the  sea.  There  were  some  indica- 
tions of  wind  at  the  time,  and  accordingly  the 
next  morning  we  had  a  fine  breeze,  which  the 
lowas  attributed  solely  to  the  Prophet's  incan- 
tation and  Eolus'  love  of  beer. 

After  a  succession  of  calms  and  adverse  winds, 
on  the  25th  we  were  off  the  Hebrides,  and  though 
not  within  sight  of  land,  the  southern  winds 
came  to  us  strongly  freighted  with  the  "meadow 
freshness  "  of  the  Irish  bogs,  so  we  could  at  least 
smell  it.  That  day  the  wind  became  more  fav- 
orable, and  the  next  morning  we  were  all  roused 
out  of  our  berths  by  sunrise,  at  the  long  wished- 
for  cry  of  "land !  "  Just  under  the  golden  flood 
of  light  that  streamed  through  the  morning 
clouds,  lay  afar-off  and  indistinct  the  crags  of 
an  island,  with  the  top  of  a  light-house  visible 
at  one  extremity.  To  the  south  of  it,  and 
barely  distinguishable,  so  completely  was  it 
blended  in  hue  with  the  veiling  cloud,  loomed  up 
a  lofty  mountain.  I  shall  never  forget  the 
sight!  As  we  drew  nearer,  the  dim  and  soft  out- 
line it  first  wore,  was  broken  into  a  range  of 
crags,  with  lofty  precipices  jutting  out  to  the 
sea,  and  sloping  off  inland.  The  white  wall  of 
the  light-house  shone  in  the  morning's  light, 


JO  VIEWS   A-FOOT. 

and  the  foam  of  the  breakers  dashed  up  at  the 
foot  of  the  airy  cliffs.  It  was  worth  all  the 
troubles  of  a  long  voyage,  to  feel  the  glorious 
excitement  which  this  herald  of  new  scenes  and 
new  adventures  created.  The  light-house  was 
on  Tory  Island,  on  the  north-western  coast  of 
Ireland.  The  Captain  decided  on  taking  the 
North  Channel,  for,  although  rarely  done,  it  was 
in  our  case  nearer,  and  is  certainly  more  inter- 
esting than  the  usual  route. 

We  passed  the  Island  of  Ennistrahul,  near  the 
entrance  of  Londonderry  harbor,  and  at  sunset 
saw  in  the  distance  the  islands  of  Islay  and 
Jura,  off  the  Scottish  coast.  Next  morning  wo 
were  close  to  the  promontory  of  Fairhead,  a 
bold,  precipitous  headland,  like  some  of  the  Pal- 
isades on  the  Hudson;  the  highlands  of  the 
Mull  of  Cantire  were  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
Channel,  and  the  wind  being  ahead,  we  tacked 
from  shore  to  shore,  running  so  near  the  Irish 
coast,  that  we  could  see  the  little  thatched  huts, 
stacks  of  peat,  and  even  rows  of  potatoes  in  the 
fields.  It  was  a  panorama :  the  view  extended 
for  miles  inland,  and  the  fields  of  different-col- 
ored grain  were  spread  out  before  us,  a  brilliant 
mosaic.  Towards  evening  we  passed  Ailsa  Crag, 
the  sea-bird's  home,  within  sight,  though  about 
twenty  miles  distant. 

On  Sunday,  the  28th,  we  passed  the  lofty 
headland  of  the  Mull  of  Galloway  and  entered 
the  Irish  Sea.  Here  there  was  an  occurrence  of 
an  impressive  nature.  A  woman,  belonging  to 
the  steerage,  who  had  been  ill  the  whole  pas- 
sage, died  the  morning  before.  She  appeared  to 
be  of  a  very  avaricious  disposition,  though  this 
might  indeed  have  been  the  result  of  self-denial, 
practiced  through  filial  affection.  In  the  morn- 
ing she  was  speechless,  and  while  they  were  en- 
deavoring to  persuade  her  to  give  up  her  keys 
to  the  captain,  died.  In  her  pocket  were  found 
two  parcels,  containing  forty  sovereigns,  sewed 


LANDING.  81 

up  with  the  most  miserly  care.  It  was  ascer- 
tained she  had  a  widowed  mother  in  the  north 
of  Ireland,  and  judging  her  money  could  be  bet- 
ter applied  than  to  paying  for  a  funeral  on 
shore,  the  captain  gave  orders  for  committing 
the  body  to  the  waves.  It  rained  drearily  as 
her  corpse,  covered  with  starred  bunting,  was 
held  at  the  gangway  while  the  captain  read  the 
funeral  service;  then  one  plunge  was  heard,  and 
a  white  object  flashed  up  through  the  dark 
waters,  as  the  ship  passed  on. 

In  the  afternoon  we  passed  the  Isle  of  Man, 
having  a  beautiful  view  of  the  Calf,  with  a  white 
stream  tumbling  down  the  rocks  into  the  sea; 
and  at  night  saw  the  sun  set  behind  the  moun- 
tains of  Wales.  About  midnight,  the  pilot  came 
on  board,  and  soon  after  sunrise  I  saw  the  dis- 
tant spires  of  Liverpool.  The  Welsh  coast  Was 
studded  with  windmills,  all  in  motion,  and  the 
harbor  spotted  with  buoys,  bells  and  floating 
lights.  How  delightful  it  was  to  behold  the 
green  trees  on  the  banks  of  the  Mersey,  and  to 
know  that  in  a  few  hours  we  should  be  on  land ! 
About  11  o'clock  we  came  to  anchor  in  the 
channel  of  the  Mersey,  near  the  docks,  and  after 
much  noise,  bustle  and  confusion,  were  trans- 
ferred, with  our  baggage,  to  a  small  steamboat, 
giving  a  parting  cheer  to  the  lowas,  who  re- 
mained on  board.  On  landing,  I  stood  a  mo- 
ment to  observe  the  scene.  The  baggage-wagons, 
drawn  by  horses,  mules  and  donkeys,  were  ex- 
traordinary ;  men  were  going  about  crying  "the 
celebrated  ^Tralorum  gingerbread!"  which  they 
carried  in  baskets ;  and  a  boy  in  the  University 
dress,  with  long  blue  gown  and  yellow  knee- 
breeches,  was  running  to  the  wharf  to  look  at 
the  Indians. 

At  last  the  carts  were  all  loaded,  the  word 
was  given  to  start,  and  then,  what  a  scene  en- 
sued !  Away  went  the  mules,  the  horses  and  the 
donkeys;  away  ran  men  and  women  and  chil- 


M  VIEWS   A-FOOT. 

dren,  carrying  chairs  and  trunks,  and  boxes  and 
bedding.  The  wind  was  blowing,  and  the  dust 
whirled  up  as  they  dashed  helter-skelter  through 
the  gate  and  started  off  on  a  hot  race,  down  the 
dock  to  the  depot.  Two  wagons  came  together, 
one  of  which  was  overturned,  scattering  the 
broken  boxes  of  a  Scotch  family  over  the  pave- 
ment; but  while  the  poor  woman  was  crving 
over  her  loss,  the  tide  swept  on,  scarcely  taking 
time  to  glance  at  the  mishap. 

Our  luggage  was  "passed  "  with  little  trouble; 
the  officer  merely  opening  the  trunks  and  press- 
ing his  hands  on  the  top.  Even  some  American 
reprints  of  English  works  which  my  companion 
carried,  and  feared  would  be  taken  from  him, 
were  passed  over  without  a  word.  I  was  agree- 
ably surprised  at  this,  as  from  the  accounts  of 
some  travelers,  I  had  been  led  to  fear  horrible 
things  of  custom-houses.  This  over,  we  took  a 
stroll  about  the  city.  I  was  first  struck  by  see- 
ing so  many  peopleValking  in  the  middle  of  the 
streets,  and  so  many  gentlemen  going  about 
with  pinks  stuck  in  their  button-holes.  Then, 
the  houses  being  all  built  of  brown  granite  or 
dark  brick,  gives  the  town  a  sombre  appear- 
ance, which  the  sunshine  (when  there  is  any) 
cannot  dispel.  Of  Liverpool  we  saw  little.  Be- 
fore the  twilight  had  wholly  faded,  we  were  again 
tossing  on  the  rough  waves  of  the  Irish  Sea. 


IRISH 


CHAPTER  II. 

A  DAY  IN  IRELAND. 

On  calling  at  the  steamboat  office  in  Liver- 
pool, to  take  passage  to  Port  Rush,  we  found 
that  the  fare  in  the  fore  cabin  was  but  two  shil- 
lings and  a  half,  while  in  the  chief  cabin  it  was 
six  times  as  much.  As  I  had  started  to  make 
the  tour  of  all  Europe  with  a  sum  little  higher 
than  is  sometimes  given  for  the  mere  passage  to 
and  fro,  there  was  no  alternative — the  twenty- 
four  hours'  discomfort  could  be  more  easily  en- 
dured than  the  expense,  and  as  I  expected  to  en- 
counter many  hardships,  it  was  best  to  make  a 
beginning.  I  had  crossed  the  ocean  with  toler- 
able comfort  for  twenty-four  dollars,  and  was 
determined  to  try  whether  England,  where  I 
iitid  been  told  it  was  almost  impossible  to 
breathe  without  expense,  might  not  also  be  seen 
by  one  of  limited  means. 

The  fore  cabin  was  merely  a  bare  room,  with 
a  bench  along  one  side,  which  was  occupied  by 
half  a  dozen  Irishmen  in  knee-breeches  and  heavy 
brogans.  As  we  pay.  od  out  of  the  Clarence  Dock 
at  10  P.  M.,  I  went  below  and  managed  to  get  a 
seat  on  one  end  of  the  bench,  where  I  spent  the 
night  in  sleepless  misery.  The  Irish  bestowed 
themselves  about  the  floor  as  they  best  could, 
for  there  was  no  light,  and  very  soon  the  Mor- 
phean  deepness  of  their  breathing  gave  token  of 
blissful  unconsciousness. 

The  next  morning  was  misty  and  rainy,  but  I 
preferred  walking  the  deck  and  drying  myself 
occasionally  beside  the  chimney,  to  sitting  in  the 
dismal  room  below.  We  passed  the  Isle  of  Man, 


84  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

and  through  the  whole  forenoon  were  tossed 
about  very  disagreeably  in  the  North  Channel. 
In  the  afternoon  we  stopped  at  Larne,  a  little 
antiquated  village,  not  far  from  Belfast,  at  the 
head  of  a  crooked  arm  of  the  sea.  There  is  an 
old  ivy-grown  tower  near,  and  high  green  moun- 
tains rise  up  around.  After  leaving  it,  we  had  a 
beautiful  panoramic  view  of  the  northern  coast. 
Many  of  the  precipices  are  of  the  same  forma- 
tion as  the  Causeway ;  Fairhead,  a  promontory 
of  this  kind,  is  grand  in  the  extreme.  The  per- 
pendicular face  of  fluted  rock  is  about  three  hun- 
dred feet  in  height,  and  towering  up  sublimely 
from  the  water,  seemed  almost  to  overhang  our 
heads. 

My  companion  compared  it  to  Niagara  Falls 
petrified;  and  I  think  the  simile  very  striking. 
It  is  like  a  cataract  falling  in  huge  waves,  in 
some  places  leaping  out  from  a  projecting  rock, 
in  others  descending  in  an  unbroken  sheet. 

We  passed  the  Giant's  Causeway  after  dark, 
and  about  eleven  o'clock  reached  the  harbor  of 
Port  Rush,  where,  after  stumbling  up  a  strange 
old  street,  in  the  dark,  we  found  a  little  inn,  and 
soon  forgot  the  Irish  Coast  and  everything  else. 

In  the  morning  when  we  arose  it  was  raining, 
with  little  prospect  of  fair  weather,  but  having 
expected  nothing  better,  we  set  out  on  foot  for 
the  Causeway.  The  rain,  however,  soon  came 
down  in  torrents,  and  we  were  obliged  to  take 
shelter  in  a  cabin  by  the  road-side.  The  whole 
house  consisted  of  one  room,  with  bare  walls 
and  roof,  and  earthen  floor,  while  a  window  of 
three  or  four  panes  supplied  the  light.  A  fire  of 
peat  \vas  burning  on  the  hearth,  and  their  break- 
fast, of  potatoes  alone,  stood  on  the  table.  The 
occupants  received  us  with  rude  but  genuine 
hospitality,  giving  us  the  only  seats  in  the  room 
to  sit  upon;  except  a  rickety  bedstead  that 
stood  in  one  corner  and  a  small  table,  there  was 
no  other  furniture  in  the  house.  The  man  ap- 


THE   GIANT'S    CAUSEWAT.  85 

peared  rather  intelligent,  and  although  he  com- 
plained of  the  hardness  of  their  lot,  had  no  sym- 
pathy with  O'Connel  or  the  Repeal  movement. 

We  left  this  miserable  hut  as  soon  as  it  quit 
raining — and,  though  there  were  many  cabins 
along  the  road,  few  were  better  than  this.  At 
length,  after  passing  the  walls  of  an  old  church, 
in  the  midst  of  older  tombs,  we  saw  the  roofless 
towers  of  Dunluce  Castle,  on  the  sea-shore.  It 
stands  on  an  isolated  rock,  rising  perpendicu- 
larly two  hundred  feet  above  the  sea,  and  con- 
nected with  the  cliffs  of  the  mainland  by  a  nar- 
row arch  of  masonry.  On  the  summit  of  the 
cliffs  were  the  remains  of  the  buildings  where  the 
ancient  lords  kept  their  vassals.  An  old  man, 
who  takes  care  of  it  for  Lord  Antrim,  on  whose 
property  it  is  situated,  showed  us  the  way  down 
to  the  castle.  We  walked  across  the  narrow 
arch,  entered  the  ruined  hall,  and  looked  down 
on  the  roaring  sea  below.  It  still  rained,  the 
wind  swept  furiously  through  the  decaying 
arches  of  the  banqueting  hall  and  waved  the 
long  grass  on  the  desolate  battlements.  Far 
below,  the  sea  foamed  white  on  the  breakers  and 
sent  up  an  unceasing  boom.  It  was  the  most 
mournful  and  desolate  picture  I  ever  beheld. 
There  were  some  low  dungeons  yet  entire,  and 
rude  stairways,  where,  by  stooping  down,  I 
could  ascend  nearly  to  the  top  of  one  of  the  tow- 
ers, and  look  out  on  the  wild  scenery  of  the 
coast. 

doing  back,  I  found  away  down  the  cliff,  to 
tho  mouth  of  a  cavern  in  the  rock,  which  extends 
uiiiuT  the  whole  castle  to  the  sea.  Sliding  down 
a  heap  of  sand  and  stones,  I  stood  under  an  arch 
eighty  feet  high;  in  front  the  breakers  dashed 
into  the  entrance,  flinging  the  spray  half-way  to 
the  roof,  while  the  sound  rang  up  through  the 
arches  like  thunder.  It  seemed  to  me  the  haunt 
of  the  old  Norsemen's  sea-gods ! 

We  left  the  road  near  Dimluce  and  walked 


26  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

along  the  smooth  beach  to  the  cliffs  that  sur. 
round  the  Causeway.  Here  we  obtained  a  guide, 
and  descended  to  one  of  the  caves  which  can  be 
entered  from  the  shore.  Opposite  the  entrance 
a  bare  rock  called  Sea  Gulf  Isle,  rises  out  of  the 
sea  like  a  church  steeple.  The  roof  at  first  was 
low,  but  we  shortly  came  to  a  branch  that 
opened  on  the  sea,  where  the  arch  was  forty-six 
feet  in  height.  The  breakers  dashed  far  into  the 
cave,  and  flocks  of  sea-birds  circled  round  its 
mouth.  The  sound  of  a  gun  was  like  a  deafen- 
ing peal  of  thunder,  crashing  from  arch  to  arch 
till  it  rolled  out  of  the  cavern. 

On  the  top  of  the  hill  a  splendid  hotel  is 
erected  for  visitors  to  the  Causeway;  after  pass- 
ing this  we  descended  to  the  base  of  the  cliffs, 
which  are  here  upwards  of  four  hundred  feet 
high,  and  soon,  began  to  find,  in  the  columnar 
formation  of  the  rocks,  indications  of  our  ap- 
proach. The  guide  pointed  out  some  columns 
which  appeared  to  have  been  melted  and  run  to- 
gether, rroin  which  Sir  Humphrey  Davy  at- 
tributed the  formation  of  the  Causeway  to  the 
action  of  fire.  Near  this  is  the  Giant's  Well,  a 
spring  of  the  purest  water,  the  bottom  formed 
by  three  perfect  hexagons,  and  the  sides  of  regu- 
lar columns.  One  of  us  observing  that  no  giant 
had  ever  drunk  from  it.  the  old  man  answered — 
"Perhaps  not:  but  it  was  made  by  a  giant — 
God  Almighty!" 

From  the  well,  the  Causeway  commences — a 
mass  of  columns,  from  triangular  to  octagonal, 
lying  in  compact  forms,  and  extending  into  the 
sea.  I  was  somewhat  disappointed  at  first, 
having  supposed  the  Causeway  to  be  of  great 
height,  but  I  found  the  Giant's  Loom,  which  is 
the  highest  part  of  it,  to  be  but  about  fifty  feet 
from  the  water.  The  singular  appearance  of  the 
columns  and  the  many  strange  forms  which  they 
assume,  render  it  nevertheless,  an  object  of  the 
greatest  interest.  Walking  out  on  the  rocks  we 


SPANISH  BAT.  VI 

came  to  the  Ladies'  Chair,  the  seat,  the  back, 
sides  and  footstool,  being  all  regularly  formed 
by  the  broken  columns.  The  guide  said  that 
any  lady  who  would  take  three  drinks  from  the 
Giant's  Well,  then  sit  in  this  chair  and  think  of 
any  gentleman  for  whom  she  had  a  preference, 
would  be  married  before  a  twelvemonth.  I 
asked  him  if  it  would  answer  as  well  for  gentle- 
men, for  by  a  wonderful  coincidence  we  had 
each  drank  three  times  at  the  well!  He  said 
it  would,  and  thought  he  was  confirming  his 
statement. 

A  cluster  of  columns  about  half-way  up  the 
cliff  is  called  the  Giant's  Organ — from  its  very 
striking  resemblance  to  that  instrument,  and  a 
single  rock,  worn  by  the  waves  into  the  shape  of 
a  rude  seat,  is  his  chair.  A  mile  or  two  further 
along  the  coast,  two  cliffs  project  from  the 
range,  leaving  a  vast  semicircular  space  be- 
tween, which,  from  its  resemblance  to  the  old 
Roman  theatres,  was  appropriated  for  that  pur- 
pose by  the  Giant.  Half-way  down  the  crags 
are  two  or  three  pinnacles  of  rock,  called  the 
Chimneys,  and  the  stumps  of  several  others  can 
be  seen,  which,  it  is  said,  were  shot  off  by  a  ves- 
sel belonging  to  the  Spanish  Armada,  in  mistake 
for  the  towers  of  Dunluce  Castle.  The  vessel 
was  afterwards  wrecked  in  the  bay  below,  which 
has  ever  since  been  called  Spanish  Bay,  and  in 
calm  weather  the  wreck  may  be  still  seen.  Many 
of  the  columns  of  the  Causeway  have  been  car- 
ried off'  and  sold  as  pillars  for  mantels — and 
though  a  notice  is  put  up  threatening  any  one 
with  the  rigor  of  the  law,  depredations  are  occa- 
sionally made. 

Returning,  we  left  the  road  at  Dunluce,  aiid 
took  a  path  which  led  along  the  summit  of  the 
cliffs.  The  twilight  was  gathering,  and  the  wind 
blew  with  perfect  fury,  which,  combined  with  the 
black  and  stormy  sky,  gave  the  coast  an  air  of 
extreme  wildness.  All  at  once,  as  we  followed 


28  VIEWS  A  FOOT. 

the  winding  path,  the  crags  appeared  to  open 
before  us.  disclosing  a  yawning  chasm,  down 
which  a  large  stream,  falling  in  an  unbroken 
sheet,  was  lost  in  the  gloom  below.  Witnessed 
in  a  calm  day,  there  may  perhaps  be  nothing 
striking  about  it,  but  coming  upon  us  at  once, 
through  the  gloom  of  twilight,  with  the  sea. 
thundering  below  and  a  scowling  sky  above,  it 
was  absolutely  startling. 

The  path  at  last  wound,  with  many  a  steep 
and  slippery  bend,  down  the  almost  perpendicu- 
lar crags,  to  the  shore,  at  the  foot  of  a  giant  is- 
olated rock,  having  a  natural  arch  through  it, 
eighty  feet  in  height.  We  followed  the  narrow 
strip  of  beach,  having  the  bare  crags  on  one  side 
and  a  line  of  foaming  breakers  on  the  other.  It 
soon  grew  dark ;  a  furious  storm  came  up  and 
swept  like  a  hurricane  along  the  shore.  I  then 
understood  what  Home  meant  by  "  the  length- 
ening javelins  of  the  blast,"  for  every  drop 
seemed  to  strike  with  the  force  of  an  arrow,  and 
our  clothes  were  soon  pierced  in  every  part. 

Then  we  went  up  among  the  sand  hills,  and 
lost  each  other  in  the  darkness,  when,  after 
stumbling  about  among  the  gullies  for  half  an 
hour,  shouting  for  my  companions,  1  found  the 
road  and  heard  my  call  answered;  but  it  hap- 
pened to  be  two  Irishmen,  who  came  up  and 
said — "  And  is  it  another  gintlemau  ye're  callin' 
for?  we  heard  some  one  cryin',  and  didn't  know 
but  somebody  might  be  kilt." 

Finally,  about  eleven  o'clock  we  all  arrived  at 
the  inn,  dripping  with  rain,  and  before  a  warm 
fire  concluded  the  adventures  oi  our  day  in  Ire- 
land. 


A   DECK  PASSAGE. 


CHAPTER  m. 

BEN   LOMOND   AND    THE   HIGHLAND   LAKES. 

The  steamboat  Londonderry  called  the  neat 
day  at  Port  Rush,  and  we  left  in  her  for  Green- 
ock.  We  ran  down  the  Irish  Coast,  past  Dun- 
luce  Castle  and  the  Causeway,  the  Giant's  organ 
was  very  plainly  visible,  and  the  winds  were 
strong  enough  to  have  sounded  a  storm-song 
upon  it.  Farther  on  we  had  a  distant  view  of 
Carrick-a-Rede,  a  precipitous  rock,  separated  by 
a  yawning  chasm  from  the  shore,  frequented  by 
the  catchers  of  sea-birds.  A  narrow  swinging 
bridge,  which  is  only  passable  in  calm  weather, 
crosses  this  chasm,  200  feet  above  the  water. 

The  deck  of  the  steamer  was  crowded  with 
Irish,  and  certainly  gave  no  very  favorable  im- 
pression of  the  condition  of  the  peasantry  of 
Ireland.  On  many  of  their  countenances  there 
was  scarcely  a  mark  of  intelligence — they  were 
a  most  brutalized  and  degraded  company  of 
beings:  Many  of  them  were  in  a  beastly  state 
of  intoxication,  wrhich,  from  the  contents  of 
some  of  their  pockets,  was  not  likely  to  de- 
crease. As  evening  drew  on,  two  or  three  began 
singing  and  the  others  collected  in  groups 
around  them.  One  of  them  who  sang  with  great 
spirit,  was  loudly  applauded,  and  poured  forth 
song  after  song,  of  the  most  rude  and  unrefined 
character. 

We  took  a  deck  passage  for  three  shillings,  in 
preference  to  paying  twenty  for  the  cabin,  and 
having  secured  a  vacant  place  near  the  chimney, 
kept  it  during  the  whole  passage.  The  waves 
were  as  rough  in  the  Channel  as  1  ever  saw  them 


30  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

in  the  Atlantic,  and  out  boat  was  tossed  abom 
like  a  plaything.  By  keeping  still  we  escaped 
sickness,  but  we  could  not  avoid  the  sight  of  the 
miserable  beings  who  filled  the  deck.  Many  of 
them  spoke  in  the  Irish  tongue,  and  our  German 
friend  (the  student  whom  I  have  already  men 
tioned)  noticed  in  many  of  the  words  a  resero> 
blance  to  his  mother  tongue.  I  procured  a  bovi 
of  soup  from  the  steward,  but  as  I  was  not  able 
to  eat  it,  I  gave  it  to  an  old  man  whose  hungry 
look  and  wistful  eves  convinced  me  it  would  not 
be  lost  on  him.  fie  swallowed  it  with  ravenous 
avidity,  together  with  a  crust  of  bread,  which 
was  all  I  had  to  give  him,  and  seemed  for  tin 
time  as  happy  and  cheerful  as  if  all  his  earthlj 
wants  were  satisfied. 

We  passed  by  the  foot  of  Goat  Fell,  a  loftj 
mountain  on  the  island  of  Arran,  and  sped  OL 
through  the  darkness  past  the  hills  of  Bute,  til? 
we  entered  the  Clyde.  We  arrived  at  Greenock 
at  one  o'clock  at  night,  and  walking  at  random 
through  its  silent  streets,  met  a  policeman,  whom 
we  asked  to  show  us  where  we  might  find  lodg- 
ings. He  took  my  cousin  and  myself  to  the 
house  of  a  poor  widow,  who  had  a  spare  bed 
which  she  let  to  strangers,  and  then  conducted 
pur  comrade  and  the  German  to  another  lodg- 
ing-place. 

An  Irish  strolling  musician,  who  was  on  board 
the  Dumbarton  boat,  commenced  playing  soon 
after  we  left  Greenock,  and,  to  my  surprise,  struck 
at  once  into  "Hail  Columbia."  Then  he  gave 
"the  Exile  of  Erin,"  with  the  most  touching 
sweetness ;  and  I  noticed  that  always  after  play- 
ing any  air  that  was  desired  of  him,  he  would 
invariably  return  to  the  sad  lament,  which  I 
never  heard  executed  with  more  feeling.  It 
might  have  been  the  mild,  soft  air  of  the  morn- 
ing, or  some  peculiar  mood  of  mind  that  in- 
fluenced me,  but  I  have  been  far  less  affected  by 
music  which  would  be  considered  immeasurabl/ 


LEV  EN    VALE.  81 

superior  to  his .  I  had  been  thinking  of  America, 
and  going  up  to  the  old  man,  I  quietly  bade  him 
play  "  Home."  It  thrilled  with  a  painful  delight 
that  almost  brought  tears  to  my  eyes.  My 
companion  started  as  the  sweet  melody  arose, 
and  turned  towards  me,  his  face  kindling  with 
emotion. 

Dumbarton  Rock  rose  higher  and  higher  as  we 
wont  up  the  Clyde,  and  before  we  arrived  at  the 
town  1  hailed  the  dim  outline  of  Ben  Lomond, 
rising  far  off  among  the  highlands.  The  town 
is  at  the  head  of  a  small  inlet,  a  short  distance 
from  the  rock,  which  was  once  surrounded  by 
water.  We  went  immediately  to  the  Castle. 
The  rock  is  nearly  500  feet  high,  and  from  its 
position  and  great  strength  as  a  fortress,  has 
been  called  the  Gibraltar  of  Scotland.  The  top 
is  surrounded  with  battlements,  and  the  armory 
and  barracks  stand  in  a  cleft  between  the  two 
peaks.  We  passed  down  a  green  lane,  around 
the  rock,  and  entered  thecastle  on  the  south  side. 
A  soldier  conducted  us  through  a  narrow  cleft, 
overhung  with  (rags,  to  the  summit.  Here,  from 
the  remains  of  a  round  building,  called  Wallace's 
Tower,  from  its  having  been  used  as  a  look-out 
station  by  that  chieftain,  we  had  a  beautiful 
view  of  the  whole  of  Leven  Vale  to  Loch  Lo- 
mond, Ben  Lomond  and  the  Highlands,  and  on 
the  other  hand,  the  Clyde  and  the  Isle  of  Bute. 
In  the  soft  and  still  balminess  of  the  morning,  it 
was  a  lovely  picture.  In  the  armory,  I  lifted  the 
sword  of  Wallace,  a  two-handed  weapon,  five 
feet  in  length.  We  were  also  shown  a  Lochaber 
battle-axe,  from  Bannockburn,  and  several  an- 
cient claymores. 

We  lingered  long  upon  the  summit  before  we 
forsook  the  stern  fortress  for  the  sweet  vale 
spread  out  before  us.  It  was  indeed  a  glori- 
ous walk,  from  Dumbarton  to  Loch  Lomond, 
through  this  enchanting  valley.  The  air  was 
mild  uud  clear ;  a  few  light  clouds  occasionally 


3-2  VIEWS   A-FOOT. 

crossing  the  sun,  checkered  the  hills  with  sun 
find  shade.  I  have  as  yet  seen  nothing  thai  in 
pastoral  beauty  can  compare  with  its  glassy 
winding  stream,  its  mossy  old  woods,  and  guard- 
ing hills — and  the  ivy-grown,  castellated  towers 
embosomed  in  its  forests,  or  standing  on  the 
banks  of  the  Leven — the  purest  of  rivers.  At  a 
little  village  called  Renton,  is  a  monument  to 
Smollett,  but  the  inhabitants  seem  to  neglect 
his  memory,  as  one  of  the  tablets  on  the  pedes- 
tal is  broken  and  half  fallen  away.  Further  up 
the  vale  a  farmer  showed  us  an  old  mansion  in 
the  midst  of  a  group  of  trees  on  the  bank  of  the 
Leven,  which  he  said  belonged  to  Smollett— or 
Roderick  Random,  as  he  called  him.  Two  or 
three, old  pear  trees  were  still  standing  where 
the  garden  had  formerly  been,  under  which  he 
was  accustomed  to  play  in  his  childhood. 

At  the  head  of  Leven  Vale,  we  set  off  in  the 
steamer  "  Water  Witch"  over  the  crystal  waters 
of  Loch  Lomond,  passing  Inch  Murrin,  the  deer- 
park  of  the  Duke  of  Montrose,  and  InchCaillach, 

"  where  gray  pines  wave 

Their  shadow's  o'er  Clan  Alpine's  grave." 

Under  the  clear  sky  and  golden  light  of  the  de- 
clining sun,  we  entered  the  Highlands,  and  heard 
on  every  side  names  we  had  learned  long  ago  in 
the  days  of  Scott.  Here  were  Glen  Fruin  <ind 
Bannochar,  Ross  Dhu  and  the  pass  of  Beal-ma- 
na.  Further  still,  we  passed  Rob  Roy's  rock, 
where  the  lake  is  locked  in  by  lofty  mountains. 
The  cone-like  peak  of  Ben  Lomond  rises  far 
above  on  the  right,  Ben  Voirlich  stands  in  front, 
and  the  jagged  crest  of  Ben  Arthur  looks  over 
the  shoulders  of  the  western  hills.  A  Scotchman 
on  board  pointed  out  to  us  the  remarkable 
places,  and  related  many  interesting  legends. 
Above  Inversnaid,  where  there  is  a  beautiful 
waterfall,  leaping  over  the  rock  and  glancing 


INVERSNAID.  38 

out  from  the  overhanging  birches,  we  passed 
McFarland's  Island,  concerning  the  origin  of 
which  name,,  he  gave  a  history.  A  nephew  of 
one  of  the  old  Earls  of  Lennox,  the  ruins  of 
whose  castle  we  saw  on  Inch  Murrin,  having 
murdered  his  uncle's  cook  in  a  quarrel,  was 
obliged  to  flee  for  his  life.  Returning  after  many 
yrni-s,  he  built ]a  castle  upon  this  island,  which 
Was  always  after  named,  on  account  of  his  exile, 
Far-kind.  On  a  precipitous  point  above  Invers- 
naid,  are  two  caves  in  the  rock;  one  near  the 
water  is  called  Rob  Roy's,  though  the  guides 
generally  call  it  Bruce's  also,  to  avoid  trouble, 
as  the  real  Bruce's  Cave  is  high  up  the  hill.  It  is 
so  called,  because  Bruce  hid  there  one  night, 
from  the  pursuit  of  his  enemies.  It  is  related 
that  a  mountain  goat,  who  used  this  probably 
for  a  sleeping  place,  entered,  trod  on  his  mantle, 
and  aroused  him.  Thinking  his  enemies  were 
upon  him,  he  sprang  up,  and  saw  the  silly  ani- 
mal before  him.  In  token  of  gratitude  for  this 
agreeable  surprise,  when  he  became  king,  a  law 
was  passed,  declaring  goats  free  throughout  all 
Scotland — unpunishable  for  whatever  trespass 
fchey  might  commit,  and  the  legend  further  says, 
that  not  having  been  repealed,  it  continues  in 
force  at  the  present  day. 

On  the  opposite  shore  of  the  lake  is  a  large 
rock,  called  u  Bull's  Rock,"  having  a  door  in  the 
side,  with  a  stairway  cut  through  the  interior  to 
a  pulpit  on  the  top,  from  which  the  pastor  at 
Arroquhar  preaches  a  monthly  discourse.  The 
Gaelic  legend  of  the  rock  is,  that  it  once  stood 
near  the  summit  of  the  mountain  above,  and 
was  very  nearly  balanced  on  the  edge  of  a  preci- 
pice. Two  wild  bulls,  fighting  violently,  dashed 
with  great  force  against  the  rock,  which,  being 
thrown  from  its  balance,  was  tumbled  down  the 
side  of  the  mountain,  till  it  reached  its  present 
position.  The  Scot  was  speaking  with  great 
bitterness  of  the  betrayal  of  Wallace,  when  I 


31  VIEWS    A-FOOT. 

nsko'l  him  if  it  was  still  considered  an  insult  to 
turn  a  loaf  of  bread  bottom  upwards  in  the 
presence  of  a  Monteith.  "Indeed  it  is,  sir,"  said 
lie,  "  1  have  often  done  it  myself." 

I'ntil  last  May,  travellers  were  taken  no  higher 
up  the  lake  than  Rob  Roy's  Cave,  but  another 
boat  having  commenced  running,  they  can  now 
go  beyond  Loch  Lomond,  two  miles  up  Glen 
Falloch,  to  the  Inn  of  Inverarnan,  thereby  vis- 
iting some  of  the  finest  scenery  in  that  part  of 
the  Highlands.  It  was  ludicrous,  however,  to 
see  the  steamboat  on  a  river  scarcely  wider  than 
herself,  in  a  little  valley,  hemmed  in  completely 
with  lofty  mountains.  She  went  on,  however, 
pushing  aside  the  thickets  which  lined  both 
banks,  and  I  almost  began  to  think  she  was 
going  to  take  the  shore  for  it,  when  \ve  came  to 
a  place  widened  out  for  her  to  be  turned  around 
in;  here  we  jumped  ashore  in  a  green  meadow, 
on  which  the  cool  mist  was  beginning  to  descend. 

When  we  arose  in  the  morning,  at  4  o'clock,  to 
return  with  the  boat,  the  sun  was  already  shining 
upon  the  westward  hills,  scarcely  a  cloud  was  in 
the  sky,  and  the  air  was  pure  and  cool.  To  our 
great  delight  Ben  Lomond  was  unshrouded, 
and  we  were  told  that  a  more  favorable  day  for 
the  ascent  had  not  occurred  for  two  months. 
We  left  the  boat  at  Rowardennan,  an  inn  at  the 
southern  base  of  Ben  Lomond.  After  break- 
fastingon  Loch  Lomond  trout,  I  stole  out  to  the 
shore  while  my  companions  were  preparing  for. 
the  ascent,  and  made  a  hasty  sketch  of  the  lake. 

We  purposed  descending  on  the  northern  side 
and  crossing  the  Highlands  to  Loch  Katrine; 
though  it  was  represented  as  Tlifh'cult  and  dan- 
gerous by  the  guide  who  wished  to  accompany 
us,  we  determined  to  run  the  risk  of  being  en- 
veloped in  a  cloud  on  the  summit,  and  so  set  out 
alone,  the  path  appearing  plain  before  us.  We 
had  no  difficulty  in  following  it  up  the  lesser 
heights,  around  the  base.  It  wound  on,  over 


ASCENT  OF  BEN  LOMOND.  35 

i  ock  and  bog,  among  the  heather  and  broom 
srith  which  the  mountain  is  covered,  sometimes 
i  mining  up  a  steep  acclivity,  and  then  winding 
zigzag  round  a  rocky  ascent.  The  rains  two 
days  before,  had  made  the  bogs  damp  and 
muddy,  but  with  this  exception,  we  had  little  trou- 
ble for  some  time.  Ben  Lomond  is  a  doubly 
formed  mountain.  For  about  three-fourths  of 
Hie  way  there  is  a  continued  ascent,  when  it  is 
viiddenly  terminated  by  a  large  barren  plain, 
t'roin  one  end  of  which  the  summit  shoots  up  ab- 
ruptly, forming  at  the  north  side,  a  precipice  500 
feet  high.  As  we  approached  the  submit  of  the 
first  part  of  the  mountain,  the  way  became  very 
steep  and  toilsome  ;  but  the  prospect,  which  had 
before  been  only  on  the  south  side,  began  to  open 
on  the  east,  and  we  saw  suddenly  spread  out 
below  us,  the  vale  of  Menteith,  with  "  far  Loch 
Ard  and  Aberfoil "  in  the  centre,  and  the  huge 
front  of  Benvenue  filling  up  the  picture.  Taking 
courage  from  this,  we  hurried  on.  The  heather  had 
become  stunted  and  dwarfish,  and  the  ground  was 
covered  with  short  brown  grass.  The  mountain 
sheep,  which  we  saw  looking  at  us  from  the  rock 
above,  had  worn  so  many  paths  along  the  side,  that 
we  could  not  tell  which  to  take,  but  pushed  on  in 
the  direction  of  the  summit,  till  thinking  it  must  be 
near  at  hand,  we  found  a  mile  and  a  half  of  plain 
before  us,  with  the  top  of  Ben  Lomond  at  the  farther 
end.  The  plain  was  full  of  wet  moss,  crossed  in  all 
directions  by  deep  ravines  or  gullies  worn  in  it  by 
the  mountain  rains,  and  the  wind  swept  across  with 
a  tempest-like  force. 

I  met,  near  the  base,  a  young  gentleman  from 
Edinburgh,  who  had  left  Rowardennan  before  us, 
and  we  commenced  ascending  together.  It  was 
hard  work,  but  neither  liked  to  stop,  so  we 
climbed  up  to  the  first  resting  place,  and  found 
the  path  leading  along  the  brink  of  the  precipice. 
We  soon  attained  the  summit,  and  climbing  up 
2 


*J  VIEWS  A-IOOT. 

a  little  mound  of  earth  and  stones,  I  saw  the 
half  of  Scotland  at  a  glance.  The  clouds  hung 
just  above  the  mountain  tops,  which  rose  all 
around  like  the  waves  of  a  mighty  sea.  On  every 
side— near  and  far— stood  their  misty  summits, 
but  Ben  Lomond  was  the  monarch  of  them  all. 
Loch  Lomond  lay  unrolled  under  my  ltd  like  a 
beautiful  map,  and  just  opposite,  Loch  Long 
thrust  its  head  from  between  the  feet  of  the 
crowded  hills,  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  giant. 
We  could  see  from  Ben  Nevis  to  Ayr — from  Edin- 
burgh to  StafFa.  Stirling  and  Edinburgh  <  'a  sties 
would  have  been  visible,  but  that  the  clouds  hung 
low  in  the  valley  of  the  Forth  and  hid  them  from 
our  sight. 

The  view  from  Ben  Lomond  is  nearly  twice  as 
extensive  as  that  from  Catskill,  being  uninter- 
rupted on  every  side,  but  it  wants  the  glorious 
forest  scenery,  clear,  blue  sky,  and  active,  rejoic- 
ing character  of  the  latter.  We  stayed  about 
two  hours  upon  the  summit,  taking  refuge  be- 
hind the  cairn,  when  the  wind  blew  strong.  I 
found  the  smallest  of  flowers  under  a  rock,  and 
brought  it  away  as  a  memento.  In  the  middle  of 
the  precipice  there  is  a  narrow  ravine  or  rather 
cleffc  in  the  rock,  to  the  bottom,  from  whence  the 
mountain  slopes  regularly  but  steeply  down  to 
the  valley.  At  the  bottom  we  stopped  to  awake 
the  echoes,  which  were  repeated  four  times;  our 
German  companion  sang  the  Hunter's  Chorus., 
which  resounded  magnificently  through  thi<? 
Highland  hah1.  We  drank  from  the  river  Forth, 
which  starts  from  a  spring  at  the  foot  of  the 
rock,  and  then  commenced  descending.  This 
\va.s  also  toilsome  enough.  The  mountain  was 
quite  wet  and  covered  with  loose  stones,  which, 
dislodged  by  our  feet,  went  rattling  down  the 
side,  oftentimes  to  the  danger  of  the  foremost 
ones;  and  when  \ve  had  run -or  rather  slid  down 
the  three  miles,  to  the  bottom,  our  knees  trem- 
bled so  as  scarcely  to  support  us. 


SCENERT  OF  THE  HIGHLANDS,  37 

Here,  at  a  cottage  on  the  farm  of  Coman,  we 
procured  some  oat  cakes  and  milk  for  dinner, 
from  an  old  Scotch  woman,  who  pointed  out  the 
direction  of  Lock  Katrine,  six  miles  distant; 
there  was  no  road,  nor  indeed  a  solitary  dwell- 
ing between.  The  hills  were  bare  of  trees,  cov- 
ered with  scraggy  bushes  and  rough  heath, 
which  in  some  places  was  so  thick  we  could 
scarcely  drag  our  feet  through.  Added  to  this, 
the  ground  was  covered  with  a  kind  of  moss 
that  retained  the  moisture  like  a  sponge,  BO 
that  our  boots  ere  long  became  thoroughly 
soaked.  Several  considerable  streams  were 
rushing  down  the  side,  and  many  of  the  wild 
breed  of  black  Highland  cattle  were  grazing 
around.  After  climbing  up  and  down  one  or 
two  heights,  occasionally  startling  the  moor- 
cock and  ptarmigan  from  their  heathery  cov- 
erts, we  saw  the  valley  of  Loch  Con ;  while  in  the 
middle  of  the  plain  on  the  top  of  the  mountain 
we  had  ascended,  was  a  sheet  of  water  which  we 
took  to  be  Loch  Ackill.  Two  or  three  wild  fowl 
swimming  on  its  surface  were  the  only  living 
things  in  sight.  The  peaks  around  shut  it  out 
from  all  view  of  the  world ;  a  single  decayed  tree 
leaned  over  it  from  a  mossy  rock,  which  gave 
the  whole  scene  an  air  of  the  most  desolate 
wildness.  I  forget  the  name  of  the  lake ;  but  we 
learned  afterwards  that  the  Highlanders  con- 
sider it  the  abode  of  the  fairies,  or  "men  of 
peace,"  and  that  it  is  still  superstitiously 
shunned  by  them  after  nightfall. 
,  From  the  next  mountain  we  saw  Loch  Ackill 
and  Loch  Katrine  below,  but  a  wet  and  weary 
descent  had  yet  to  be  made.  I  was  about 
throwing  off  my  knapsack  on  a  rock,  to  take  a 
sketch  of  Loch  Katrine,  which  appeared  very 
beautiful  from  this  point,  when  we  discerned  a 
cavalcade  of  ponies  winding  along  the  path 
from  Inversnaid,  to  the  head  of  the  lake,  and 
hastened  down  to  take  the  boat  when  they 


38  flEWS  A- FOOT. 

should  arrive.  Our  haste  turned  out  to  be  un 
necessary,  however,  for  they  had  to  wait  for 
their  luggage,  which  was  long  in  coming.  Two 
boatmen  then  offered  to  take  us  for  two  shil- 
lings and  sixpence  each,  with  the  privilege  of 
stopping  at  Ellen's  Isle;  the  regular  fare  being 
two  shillings.  We  got  in,  when,  after  exchang- 
ing a  few  words  in  Gaelic,  one  of  them  called  1  <> 
the  travellers,  of  whom  there  were  a  number,  to 
come  and  take  passage  at  two  shillings— then 
at  one  and  sixpence,  and  finally  concluded  by 
requesting  them  all  to  step  onboard  1  he  shilling 
boat!  At  length,  having  secured  nine  at  this 
reduced  price,  we  pushed  off;  one  of  the  passen- 
gers took  the  helm,  and  the  boat  glided  merrily 
over  the  clear  water. 

It  appears  there  is  some  opposition  among 
the  boatmen  this  summer,  which  is  all  the  better 
for  travellers.  They  are  a  bold  race,  and  still 
preserve  many  of  the  characteristics  of  the  clan 
from  which  they  sprung.  One  of  ours,  who  had 
a  chieftain-like  look,  was  a  MacGregor,  related 
to  Rob  Roy.  The  fourth  descendant  in  a  direct 
line,  now  inhabits  the  Rob  Roy  mansion,  at  Glen- 
gyle,  a  valley  at  the  head  of  the  lake.  A  small 
steamboat  was  put  upon  Loch  Katrine  a  short- 
time  ago,  but  the  boatmen,  jealous  of  this  new 
invasion  of  their  privilege,  one  night  towed  hei 
out  to  the  middle  of  the  lake  and  there  sunk  her 

Near  the  point  of  Brianchoil  is  a  very  smal 
island  with  a  few  trees  upon  it,  of  which  th< 
boatman  related  a  story  that  was  new  to  me 
He  said  an  eccentric  individual,  many  years  ago 
built  his  house  upon  it — but  it  was  soon  beater 
down  by  the  winds  and  waves.  Having  built  r ; 
up  with  like  fortune  several  times,  he  at  last  de- 
sisted, saying, ' 'bought  wisdom  was  the  best;" 
since  when,  it  has  been  called  the  Island  of  Wis- 
dom. On  the  shore  below,  the  boatman  showed 
us  his  cottage.  The  whole  family  were  out  at 
the  door  to  witness  our  progress ;  he  hoisted  a 


•LOCH  KATRTNE.  38 

flag,  and  when  we  came  opposite,  they  ex. 
changed  shouts  in  Gaelic.  As  our  men  resumed 
their  oars  again,  we  assisted  in  giving  three 
cheers,  which  made  the  echoes  of  Benvenue  ring 
again.  Some  one  observed  his  dog,  looking 
after  us  from  a  projecting  rock,  when  he  called 
out  to  him,  "  Go  home,  you  brute! "  We  asked 
why  he  did  not  speak  Gaelic  also  to  the  dog. 

"Very  few  dogs,  indeed,"  said  he, "understand 
Gaelic,  but  they  all  understand  English.  And  we 
therefore  all  use  English  when  speaking  to  our 
dogs;  indeed,  I  know  some  persons,  who  know 
nothing  of  English,  that  speak  it  to  their  dogs !  " 

They  then  sang,  in  a  rude  manner,  a  Gaelic 
song.  The  only  word  I  could  distinguish  was 
Inch  Caillach,  the  burying  place  of  Clan  Alpine. 
They  told  us  it  was  the  answer  of  a  Highland 
girl  to  a  foreign  lord,  who  wished  to  make  her 
his  bride.  Perhaps,  like  the  American  Indian, 
she  would  not  leave  the  graves  of  her  fathers. 
As  we  drew  near  the  eastern  end  of  the  lake,  the 
scenery  became  far  more  beautiful.  The  Tro- 
sachs  opened  before  us.  Ben  Ledi  looked  down 
over  the  "  forehead  bare"  of  Ben  An,  and,  as  we 
turned  a  rocky  point,  Ellen's  Isle  rose  up  in 
front.  It  is  a  beautiful  little  turquoise  in  the  sil- 
ver setting  of  Loch  Katrine.  The  northern  side 
alone  is  accessible,  all  the  others  being  rocky 
and  perpendicular,  and  thickly  grown  with  trees. 
We  rounded  the  island  to  the  little  bay,  bor- 
dered by  the  silver  strand,  above  which  is  the 
rock  from  which  Fitz-James  wound  his  horn, 
and  shot  under  an  ancient  oak  which  flung  its 
long  grey  arms  over  the  water ;  we  here  found  a 
flight  of  rocky  steps,  leading  to  the  top,  where 
stood  the  bower  erected  by  Lady  Willoughby 
D'Eresby,  to  correspond  with  Scott's  descrip- 
tion. Two  or  three  blackened  beams  are  all  that 
remain  of  it,  having  been  burned  down  some 
years  ago,  by  the  carelessness  of  a  traveller. 

The  mountains  stand  all  around,  like  giants, 


40  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

to  "sentinel  this  enchanted  land."  On  leaving 
the  island,  wo  saw  the  Goblin's  Cave,  in  the  side 
of  Ben  venue,  called  by  the  Gaels,  "Coirnan-Uris- 
kin."  Near  it  is  Beal-nam-bo,  the  pass  of  cattle, 
overhung  with  grey  weeping  birch  trees. 

Here  the  boatmen  stopped  to  let  us  hear  the 
fine  echo,  and  the  names  of  "Rob  Roy,"  and 
"Roderick  Dhu,"  were  sent  back  to  us  appar- 
ently as  loud  as  they  were  given.  The  descrip- 
tion of  Scott  is  wonderfully  exact,  though  the 
forest  that  feathered  o'er  the  sides  of  Benvenue, 
has  since  been  cut  down  and  sold  by  the  Duke  of 
Moutrose.  When  we  reached  the  end  of  the  lake 
it  commenced  raining,  and  we  hastened  on 
through  the  pass  of  Beal-an-Duine,  scarcely  tak- 
ing time  to  glance  at  the  scenery,  till  Loch 
Achray  appeared  through  the  trees,  and  on  its 
banks  the  ivy-grown  front  of  the  inn  of  Ard- 
cheaucrochan,  with  its  unpronounceable  name. 


CHAPTER  IY. 

THE  BURNS  FESTIVAL. 

We  passed  a  glorious  summer  morning  on  the 
bank  of  Loch  Katrine.  The  air  was  pure,  fresh 
and  balmy,  and  the  warm  sunshine  glowed  upon 
forest  and  lake,  upon  dark  crag  and  purple 
mountain-top.  The  lake  was  a  scene  in  fairy- 
land. Returning  over  the  rugged  battle-plain  in 
fche  jaws  of  the  Trosachs,  we  passed  the  wild, 
(onely  valley  of  Glenfmlas  and  Lanric  Mead,  at 
the  head  of  Loch  Vennachar,  rounding  the  foot 
of  Ben  Ledi  to  Coilantogle  Ford,  ^e  saw  the 
desolate  hills  of  Fum-var  ovt-r  which  the  stag 
fled  from  his  lair  in  (llonartnoy.  and  keeping  on 
through  Callauder,  stopped  lor  the  night  at  a 


rHE  BURNS  FESTIVAL. 

little  inn  on  the  banks  of  the  Teith.  The 
day  we  walked  through  Doune,  over  the  low- 
la  ml  s  to  Stirling.  Crossing  Allan  Water  and 
the  Forth,  we  climbed  Stirling  Castle  and  looked 
on  the  purple  peaks  of  the  Ochill  Mountains,  the 
far  Grampians,  and  the  battle-fields  of  Bannock- 
burn  and  Sheriff  Muir.  Our  German  comrade, 
feeling  little  interest  in  the  memory  oi  the  poet- 
ploughman,  left  in  the  steamboat  for  Edin- 
burgh ;  we  mounted  an  English  coach  and  rode 
to  Falkirk,  where  we  took  the  cars  for  Glasgow 
in  order  to  attend  the  Burns  Festival,  on  the 
6th  of  August. 

This  was  a  great  day  for  Scotland — the  assem- 
bling of  all  classes  to  do  honor  to  the  memory 
of  her  peasant-bard.  And  right  fitting  was  it, 
too,  that  such  a  meeting  should  be  held  on  the 
banks  of  the  Doon,  the  stream  of  which  he  has 
sung  so  sweetly,  within  sight  of  the  cot  where  he 
was  born,  the  beautiful  monument  erected  by 
his  countrymen,  and  more  than  all,  beside  "Al- 
loway's  witch-haunted  wall ! "  One  would  think 
old  Albyn  would  rise  up  at  the  call,  and  that 
from  the  wild  hunters  of  the  northern  hills  to 
the  shepherds  of  the  Cheviots,  half  her  honest 
yeomanry  would  be  there,  to  render  gratitude  to 
the  memory  of  the  sweet  bard  who  was  one  of 
them,  and  who  gave  their  wants  and  their  woes 
such  eloquent  utterance. 

For  months  before  had  the  proposition  been 
made  to  hold  a  meeting  on  the  Doon,  similar  to 
the  Shakespeare  Festival  on  the  Avon,  and  the 
10th  of  July  was  first  appointed  for  the  day,  but 
owing  to  the  necessity  of  further  time  for  prepar- 
ation, it  was  postponed  until  the  6th  of  August. 
The  Earl  of  Eglintoun  was  chosen  Chairman, 
and  Professor  Wilson  Vice-Chairman ;  in  addi- 
tion to  this,  all  the  most  eminent  British  auth- 
ors were  invited  to  attend.  A  pavilion,  capable 
of  containing  two  thousand  persons,  had  beer 
erected  near  the  monument,  in  a  large  field, 


42  VIEWS  A-  FOOT. 

which  was  thrown  open  to  the  public.  Other 
preparations  were  made  and  the  meeting-  waa 
expected  to  be  of  the  most  interesting  character. 
When  we  arose  it  was  raining,  and  I  feared 
that  the  weather  might  dampen  somewhat  the 

Eleasures  of  the  day,  as  it  had  done  to  the  cele- 
rated  tournament  at  Eglintoun  Castle.  AVe 
reached  the  station  in  time  for  the  first  train, 
and  sped  in  the  face  of  the  wind  over  the  plains 
of  Ayrshire,  which,  under  such  a  gloomy  *jky, 
looked  most  desolate.  We  ran  some  distance 
along  the  coast,  having  a  view  of  the  Hills  of 
Arran,  and  reached  Ayr  about  nine  o^clock.  AVe 
came  first  to  the  New  Bridge,  which  had  a  tri- 
umphal arch  in  the  middle,  aiid  the  Hues,  from 
the  "  Twa  Brigs  of  Ayr  "  : 

"  Will  your  poor  narrow  foot-path  of  a  street, 
Where  twa  wheel-barrows  tremble  when  they  meet, 
Your  ruin'd,  formless  bulk  o'  stane  and  lime, 
Compare  wi'  bonnie  brigs  o'  modern  time  ?  " 


While  <m  ^Jie  arch  of  the  "old  brig"  n*as  the 
reply: 

"  I'll  be  a  brig  when  ye're  a  shapeless  stane." 

As  we  advanced  into  the  town,  the  decorations 
became  more  frequent.  The  strt-ets  were  crowded 
with  people  carrying  banners  mid  wreaths,  many 
of  the  houses  were  adorned  with  green  boughs 
and  the  vessels  in  the  harbor  hung  out  all  their 
flags.  We  saw  the  AA'allace  tower,  a  high  Gothic 
building,  having  in  front  a  statue  of  Wallace 
N',-1  ning  on  his  sword,  by  Thorn,  a  native  of  Ayrf 
and  on  our  way  to  the  green,  where  the  proces- 
sion was  to  assemble,  passed  under  the  trium- 
phal arch  thrown  across  the  street  opposite  the 
inn  where  Tarn  O'Shanter  caroused  so  long  with 
Souter  Johnny.  Leaving  thr  companies  to  form 
01  the  long  meadow  bordering  the  shore,  we  sot 
out  for  the  Doon,  three  miles  distant.  Beggars 


,» .. 


SCOTCH  BEGGARS.  4$ 

were  seated  at  regular  distances  along  the  road, 
uttering  the  most  dolorous  winnings.  Both 
bridges  were  decorated  in  the  same  manner,  with 
miserable  looking  objects,  keeping  up,  during 
the  whole  day,  a  continual  lamentation.  Per- 
sons are  prohibited  from  begging  in  England 
and  Scotland,  but  I  suppose,  this  being  an  ex- 
traordinary day,  license  was  given  them  as  a 
favor,  to  beg  free.  I  noticed  that  the  women, 
with  their  usual  kindness  of  heart,  bestowed 
n3arly  all  the  alms  which  these  unfortunate  ob- 
jects received.  The  night  before,  as  I  was  walk- 
ing through  the  streets  of  Glasgow,  a  young 
man  of  the  poorer  class,  very  scantily  dressed, 
stepped  up  to  me  and  begged  me  to  listen  to 
him  for  a  moment.  He  spoke  hurriedly,  and  agi- 
tatedly begging  me,  in  God's  name,  to  give  him 
something,  however  little.  I  gave  him  what  few 
pence  I  had  with  me,  when  he  grasped  my  hand 
with  a  quick  motion,  saying:  "Sir,  you  little 
think  how  much  you  have  done  for  me."  I  was 
about  to  inquire  more  particularly  into  his 
situation,  but  he  had  disappeared  among  the 
crowd. 

We  passed  the  "cairn  where  hunters  found 
the  murdered  bairn,"  along  a  pleasant  road  to 
the  Burns  cottage,  where  it  was  spanned  by  a 
magnificent  triumphal  arch  of  evergreens  and 
flowers.  To  the  disgrace  of  Scotland,  this  neat 
little  thatched  cot,  where  Burns  passed  the  first 
seven  years  of  his  life,  is  now  occupied  by  some- 
body, who  has  stuck  up  a  sign  over  the  door, 
"licensed  to  retail  spirits,  to  be  drunk  on  the 
premises;"  and  accordingly  the  rooms  were 
crowded  full  of  people,  all  drinking.  There  was 
a  fine  original  portrait  of  Burns  in  one  room, 
and  in  the  old  fashioned  kitchen  we  saw  the  re- 
cess where  he  was  born.  The  hostess  looked  to- 
wards us  as  if  to  inquire  what  we  would  drink, 
and  I  hastened  away — there  was  profanity  in 
the  thought.  But  by  this  time,  the  bell  of  Old 


44  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

Alloway,  which  still  hangs  in  its  accustomed 
place,  though  the  walls  only  are  left,  began  toll- 
ing, and  we  obeyed  the  call.  The  attachment  of 
the  people  for  this  bell,  is  so  great,  that  a  short 
time  ago,  when  it  was  ordered  to  be  removed, 
the  inhabitants  rose  en  masse,  and  prevented  it. 
The  ruin,  which  is  close  by  the  road,  stands  in 
the  middle  of  the  churchyard,  and  the  first 
thing  I  saw,  on  going  in  the  gate,  was  the  tomb 
of  the  father  of  Burns.  I  looked  in  the  old  win- 
dow, but  the  interior  was  filled  with  rank  weeds, 
and  overshadowed  by  a  young  tree,  which  had 
grown  nearly  to  the  eaves. 

The  crowd  was  now  fast  gathering  in  the  large 
field,  in  the  midst  of  which  the  pavilion  was  sit- 
uated. We  went  down  by  the  beautiful  monu- 
ment to  Burns,  to  the  "Auld  Brig  o'  Boon," 
which  was  spanned  by  an  arch  of  evergreens. 
containing  a  representation  of  Tarn  O'Shanter 
and  his  gray  mare,  pursued  by  the  witches.  It 
had  been  arranged  that  the  procession  was  to 
pass  over  the  old  and  new  bridges,  and  from 
thence  by  a  temporary  bridge  over  the  hedge  in- 
to the  field.  At  this  latter  place  a  stand  was 
erected  for  the  sons  of  Burns,  the  officers  of  the 
day,  and  distinguished  guests.  Here  was  a 
beautiful  specimen  of  English  exclusiveness. 
The  space  adjoining  the  pavilion  was  fenced 
around,  and  admittance  denied  at  first  to  any, 
except  those  who  had  tickets  for  the  dinner, 
which,  the  price  being  fifteen  shilling's,  entirely 
prevented  the  humble  laborers,  who,  more  than 
all,  should  participate  on  the  occasion,  from 
witnessing  the  review  of  the  procession  by  the 
eons  of  Burns,  and  hearing  the  eloquent  speeches 
of  Professor  Wilson  and  Lord  Eglintoun.  Thus, 
of  the  many  thousands  who  were  in  the  field, 
but  a  few  hundred  who  were  crowded  between 
the  bridge  and  a  railing  around  the  pavilion, 
enjoyed  the  interesting  spectacle.  By  good  for- 
tune, I  obtained  a  stand,  where  I  had  an  excel- 


THE  PROCESSION.  48 

lent  view  of  the  scene.  The  sons  of  Burns  were 
in  the  middle  of  the  platform,  with  Eglintoun  on 
the  right,  and  Wilson  on  their  left.  Mrs.  Begg, 
sister  of  the  Poet,  with  her  daughters,  stood  by 
the  Countess  of  Eglintoun.  She  was  a  plain, 
benevolent  looking  woman,  dressed  in  black, 
and  appearing  stillactive  and  vigorous,  though 
she  is  upwards  of  eighty  years  old.  She  bears 
some  likeness,  especially  in  the  expression  of  her 
eye,  to  the  Poet.  Robeit  Burns,  the  oldest  son, 
appeared  to  me  to  have  a  strong  resemblance  of 
his  father,  and  it  is  said  he  is  the  only  one  who 
remembers  his  face.  He  has  for  a  long  time  had 
an  office  under  Government,  in  London.  The 
others  have  but  lately  returned  from  a  residonce 
of  twenty  years  in  India.  Professor  Wilson  ap- 
peared to  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the  scene  better 
than  any  of  them.  He  shouted  and  waved  hia 
hat,  and,  with  his  fine,  broad  forehead,  his  long 
brown  locks  already  mixed  with  gray,  streaming 
over  his  shoulders,  and  that  eagle  eye  glancing 
over  the  vast  assemblage,  seemed  a  real  Chris- 
topher North,  yet  full  of  the  fire  and  vigor  oi 
youth — "a  gray-haired,  happy  boy ! " 

About  half  of  the  procession  consisted  oi 
lodges  of  masons,  all  of  whom  turned  out  on 
the  occasion,  as  Burns  was  one  of  the  frater- 
nity. I  was  most  interested  in  several  com- 
panies of  shepherds,  from  the  hills,  with  their 
crooks  and  plaids ;  a  body  of  archers  in  Lincoln 
green,  with  a  handsome  chief  at  their  head,  and 
some  Highlanders  in  their  most  picturesque  oi 
costumes.  As  one  of  the  companies,  which 
carried  a  mammoth  thistle  in  a  box,  came  near 
the  platform,  Wilson  snatched  a  branch,  re- 
gardless of  its  pricks,  and  placed  it  on  his  coat. 
After  this  pageant,  which  could  not  have  been 
much  less  than  three  miles  long,  had  passed,  a 
band  was  stationed  on  the  platform  in  the 
centre  of  the  field,  around  which  it  formed  in  a 
circle,  and  the  whole  company  sang,  "Ye  Banks 


46  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

and  Braes  o'  Bonnie  Doon."  Just  at  this  time, 
a  person  dressed  to  represent  Tarn  O'Shanter, 
mounted  on  a  gray  niare,  issued  from  a  field 
near  the  Burns  Monument  and  rode  along 
towards  Alloway  Kirk,  from  which,  when  he  a  p. 
preached  it,  a  whole  legion  of  witches  sallied 
out  and  commenced  a  hot  pursuit.  They 
turned  back,  howrever,  at  the  keystone  of  the 
bridge,  the  witch  with  the  "cutty  sark  "  holding 
up  in  triumph  the  abstracted  tail  of  Maggie. 
Soon  after  this  the  company  entered  the  pa- 
vilion, and  the  thousands  outside  were  enter- 
tained, as  an  especial  favor,  by  the  band  of  the 
87th  Regiment,  while  from  the  many  liquor 
booths  around  the  field,  they  could  enjoy  them- 
selves in  another  way. 

We  went  up  to  the  Monument,  which  was  of 
more  particular  interest' to  us,  from  the  relics 
within,  but  admission  was  denied  to  all.  Many 
persons  were  collected  around  the  gate,  some  of 
whom,  having  come  from  a  great  distance,  were 
anxious  to  see  it ;  but  the  keeper  only  said,  such 
were  the  orders  and  he  could  not  disobey  them. 
Among  the  crowd,  a  grandson  of  the  original 
Tarn  O'Shanter  was  shown  to  us.  He  was  a 
raw-looking  boy  of  nineteen  or  twenty,  wearing 
a  shepherd  s  cap  and  jacket,  and  muttered  his 
disapprobation  very  decidedly,  at  not  being 
able  to  visit  the  Monument. 

There  were  one  or  two  showers  during  the 
day,  and  the  sky,  all  the  time,  was  dark  and 
lowering,  which  was  unfavorable  for  the  celebra- 
tion; but  all  were  glad  enough  that  the  rain 
kept  aloof  till  the  ceremonies  were  nearly  over. 
The  speeches  delivered  at  the  dinner,  which  ap- 
peared in  the  papers  next  morning,  are  un- 
doubtedly very  eloquent.  I  noticed  in  the  re- 
marks of  Robert  Burns,  in  reply  to  Professor 
Wilson,  an  acknowledgment  which  the  other 
speakers  forgot.  He  said,  "The  Sons  of  Burns 
have  grateful  hearts,  and  to  the  last  hour  of 


BURNS'  SONS.  4T 

/heir  existence,  they  will  remember  the  honor 
that  has  been  paid  them  this  day,  by  the  noble, 
the  lovely  and  the  talented,  of  their  native  land 
•-by  men  of  genius  and  kindred  spirit  from  our 
foster  land— and  lastly,  they  owe  their  thanks 
K)  the  inhabitants  of  the  far  distant  west,  a 
country  of  a  great,  free,  and  kindred  people! 
(loud  cheers)."  In  connexion  with  this  subject, 
t  saw  an  anecdote  of  the  Poet,  yesterday, 
A'hich  is  not  generally  known.  During  his  con- 
lexion  with  the  Excise,  he  was  one  day  at  a 
tparty,  where  the  health  of  Pitt,  then  minister, 
«vras  proposed,  as  "his  master  and  theirs."  He 
mmediately  turned  down  his  glass  and  said,  "I 
ivill  give  you  the  health  of  a  far  greater  and 
better  man — GEORGE  WASHINGTON!" 

We  left  the  field  early  and  went  back  through 
the  muddy  streets  of  Ayr.  The  street  before 
the  railway  office  was  crowded,  and  there  was 
BO  dense  a  mass  of  people  on  the  steps,  that  it 
Deemed  almost  impossible  to  get  near.  Seeing 
no  other  chance,  1  managed  to  take  my  stand 
on  the  lowest  steps,  where  the  pressure  of  the 
crowd  behind  and  the  working  of  the  throng  on 
the  steps,  raised  me  off  my  feet,  and  in  about  a 
q  uarter  of  an  hour  carried  me,  compressed  into 
the  smallest  possible  space,  up  the  steps  to  the 
door,  where  the  crowd  burst  in  by  fits,  like 
water  rushing  out  of  a  bottle.  We  esteemed 
ourselves  fortunate  in  getting  room  to  stand  in 
an  open  car,  where,  after  a  two  hours'  ride 
through  the  wind  and  pelting  rain,  we  arrived 
at  Glasgow. 


VIEWS  A- FOOT. 


CHAPTER  V. 

WALK  FROM    EDINBURGH  OVER  THE    BORDER  AND 
ARRIVAL  AT  LONDON. 

We  left  Glasgow  on  the  morning  after  return. 
ing  from  the  Burns  Festival,  taking  passage  in 
the  open  cars  for  Edinburgh,  for  six  shillings. 
On  leaving  the  depot,  we  plunged  into  the  heart 
of  the  hill  on  which  Glasgow  Cathedral  stands 
and  were  whisked  through  darkness  and  sulph- 
ury smoke  to  daylight  again.  The  cars  bore  us 
past  a  spur  of  the  Highlands  through  a  beauti- 
ful country  where  women  were  at  work  in  1he 
fields,  to  Linlithgow,  the  birth-place  of  Queen 
Mary.  The  majestic  ruins  of  its  once-proud  pal- 
ace, stand  on  a  green  meadow  behind  the  town. 
In  another  hour  we  were  walking  through  Edin- 
burgh, admiring  its  palace-like  edifices,  and  stop- 
ping every  few  minutes  to  gaze  up  at  some  lofty 
monument.  Really,  thought  I,  we  call  Balti- 
more the  "  Monumental  City  "  for  its  two  marble 
columns,  and  here  is  Edinburgh  with  one  at  every 
street  corner !  These,  too,  not  in  the  midst  of 
glaring  red  buildings,  where  they  seem  to  have 
been  accidentally  dropped,  but  framed  in  by 
lofty  granite  mansions,  whose  long  vistas  make 
an  appropriate  background  to  the  picture. 

We  looked  from  Calton  Hill  on  Salisbury 
Crags  and  over  the  Frith  of  Forth,  then  de- 
scended to  dark  old  Holyrood,  where  the  mem- 
ory of  lovely  Mary  lingers  like  a  stray  sunbeam 
in  her  cold  halls,  and  the  fair,  boyish  face  of  Riz- 
zio  looks  down  from  the  canvas  on  the  armor 
of  his  murderer.  We  threaded  the  Canongate 
and  climbed  to  the  Castle;  and  finally,  after  a 


EDINBURGH  49 

day  and  a  half  s  sojourn,  buckled  on  our  knap- 
sacks and  marched  out  of  the  Northern  Athens. 
In  a  short  time  the  tall  spire  of  Dalkeith  ap- 
peared above  the  green  wood,  and  we  saw  to  the 
right,  perched  on  the  steep  bank  of  the  Esk,  the 

Bleturesque  cottage  of  Hawthornden,  where 
rummond  once  lived  in  poetic  solitude.  We 
made  haste  to  cross  the  dreary  waste  of  the 
M uirfoot  hills  before  nightfall,  from  the  highest 
summit  of  which  we  took  a  last  view  of  Edin- 
burgh Castle  and  the  Salisbury  Crags,  then  blue 
in  the  distance.  Far  to  the  east  were  the  hills 
of  Lammermuir  and  the  country  of  Mid-Lothian 
lay  before  us.  It  was  all  Scott-la.nd.  The  Inn 
of  Torsonce,  beside  the  Gala  Water,  was  our 
resting-place  for  the  night.  As  we  approached 
Galashiels  the  next  morning,  where  the  bed  of 
the  silver  Gala  is  nearly  emptied  by  a  number  of 
dingy  manufactories,  the  hills  opened,  disclosing 
the  sweet  vale  of  the  Tweed,  guarded  by  the 
triple  peak  of  the  Eildon,  at  whose  base  lay 
nestled  the  village  of  Melrose. 

I  stopped  at  a  bookstore  to  purchase  a  view 
of  the  Abbey;  to  my  surprise  nearly  half  the 
works  were  by  American  authors.  There  were 
Bryant,  Longfellow,  Charming,  Emerson,  Dana, 
Ware  and  many  others.  The  bookseller  told  me 
he  had  sold  more  of  Ware's  Letters  than  any 
other  book  in  his  store,  "and  also,"  to  use  his 
own  words,  "an  immense  number  of  the  great 
Dr.  Charming."  I  have  seen  English  editions  of 
Percival,  Willis,  Whittler  and  Mrs.  Sigourney, 
but  Bancroft  and  Prescott  are  classed  among 
I'he  "standard  British  historians." 

Crossing  the  Gala  we  ascended  a  hill  on  the 
i-oad  to  Selkirk,  and  behold !  the  Tweed  ran  be- 
low, and  opposite,  in  the  midst  of  embowering 
trees  planted  by  the  hand  of  Scott,  rose  the  gray 
halls  of  Abbott sford.  We  went  down  a  lane  to 
the  banks  of  the  swift  stream,  but  finding  no 
ferry,  B and  I,  as  it  looked  very  shallow, 


W  VIEWS  A -FOOT. 

thought  we  might  save  a  long  walk 

across.    F preferred  hunting  for  a  boat;  we 

two  set  out  together,  with  our  knapsacks  on 
our  backs,  and  our  boots  in  our  hands.  The 
current  was  ire  cold  and  very  swift,  and  as  the 
bed  was  covered  with  loose  stones,  it  required 
the  greatest  can1  to  stand  upright.  Looking  at 
the  bottom,  through  the  rapid  water,  made  my 
head  so  giddy,  I  was  forced  to  stop  and  shut  my 
eyes;  my  friend,  who  had  firmer  nerves,  went 
plunging  on  to  a  deeper  and  swifter  part,  where 
the  strength  of  the  current  made  him  stagger 
very  unpleasantly.  I  called  to  him  to  return ; 
the  next  thing  I  saw,  he  gave  a  plunge  and  went 
down  to  the  shoulder  in  the  cold  flood.  While 
he  was  struggling  with  a  frightened  expression 
of  face  to  recover  his  footing,  I  leaned  on  my 
staff  and  laughei  till  I  was  on  the  point  of  fall- 
ing also.  To  crown  our  mortification,  F 

had  found  a  ferry  a  few  yards  higher  up  and  was 
on  the  opposite  shore,  watching  us  wade  back 
again,  my  friend  with  dripping  clothes  and 
boots  full  of  water.  I  could  not  forgive  the 
pretty  Scotch  damsel  who  rowed  us  across,  the 
mischievous  lurking  smile  which  told  that  she 
too  had  witnessed  the  adventure. 

We  found  a  foot-path  on  the  other  side,  which 
led  through  a  young  forest  to  Abbotsford. 
Rude  pieces  of  s'culpture,  taken  from  Melrose 
Abbey,  were  scattered  around  the  gate,  some 
half  buried  in  the  earth  and  overgrown  with 
weeds.  The  niches  in  the  walls  were  filled  with 
pieces  of  sculpture,  and  an  antique  marble  gray- 
hound  reposed  in  the  middle  of  the  courtyard. 
We  rang  the  bell  in  an  outer  vestibule  orna- 
mented with  several  pairs  of  antlers,  when  a 
lady  appeared,  who,  from  her  appearance,  I 
have  no  doubt  was  Mrs.  Ormand,  the  "Duenna 
of  Abbotsford,"  so  humorously  described  by 
D'Arlincourt,  in  his  "Three  Kingdoms."  She 
ushered  us  into  the  entrance  hall,  which  has  a 


MELROSR.  51 

magnificent  ceiling  of  carved  oak  and  is  lighted 
by  lofty  stained  windows.  An  effigy  of  a  knight 
in  armor  stood  at  either  end,  one  holding  a 
huge  two-handed  sword  found  on  Bosworth 
Field;  the  walls  -\\ -ere  covered  with  helmets  and 
breastplates  of  the  olden  time. 

Among  the  curiosities  in  the  Armory  are  Na- 
poleon's pistols,  the  blunderbuss  of  Hofer,  Rob 
Roy's  purse  and  gun,  and  the  offering  box  of 
Queen  Mary.  Through  the  folding  doors  be- 
tween the  dining-room,  drawing-room  and  li- 
brary, is  a  tine  vista,  terminated  by  a  niche,  in 
which  stands  Chantrey's  bust  of  Scott.  The 
ceilings  are  of  carved  Scottish  oak  and  the 
doors  of  American  cedar.  Adjoining  the  library 
is  his  study,  the  walls  of  which  are  covered  with 
books;  the  doors  and  windows  are  double,  to 
render  it  quiet  and  undisturbed.  His  books  and 
inkstand  are  on  the  table  and  his  writing-chair 
stands  before  it,  as  if  he  had  left  them  but  a  mo- 
ment before.  t  In  a  little  closet  adjoining,  where 
he  kept  his  private  manuscripts,  are  the  clothes 
he  last  wore,  his  cane  and  belt,  to  which  a  ham- 
mer and  small  axe  are  attached,  and  his  sword. 
A  narrow  staircase  led  from  the  study  to  his 
sleeping  room  above,  by  which  he  could  come 
down  at  night  and  work  while  his  family  slept. 
The  silence  about  the  place  is  solemn  and 
breathless,  as  if  it  waited  to  be  broken  by  his  re- 
turning footstep.  I  felt  an  awe  in  treading 
these  lonely  halls,  like  that  which  impressed  me 
before  the  grave  of  Washington — a  feeiing  that 
hallowed  the  spot,  as  if  there  yet  lingered  a  low 
vibration  of  the  lyre,  though  the  minstrel  had 
departed  forever ! 

Plucking  a  wild  rose  that  grew  near  the  walls, 
I  left  Abbotsford,  embosomed  among  the  trees, 
and  turned  into  a  green  lane  that  led  down  to 
Melrose.  We  went  immediately  to  the  Abbey,  in 
the  lower  part  of  the  village,  near  the  Tweed. 
As  I  approached  the  gate,  the  porteress  came 


53  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

out,  and  having  scrutinized  me  rather  sharply, 
asked  my  name.  I  told  her;— "well,"  she  added, 
"there  is  a  jtrosjiivt  here  for  you."  Thinking 
she  alluded  to  the  ruin,  I  replied :  "Yes.  1  ln>  view 
is  certainly  very  tine."  "Oh!  I  don't  mean 
that,"  she  replied,  "a  young  gentleman  left  ;i 
prospect  here  for  you!" — whereupon  she  brought 
out  a  spy-glass,  which  I  recognized  as  one  th;it 
our  Gorman  comrade  had  given  to  me.  He  had 
gone  on  and  hoped  to  meet  us  at  .Jedburgh. 

Mel  rose  is  the  finest  remaining  specimen  of 
Gothic  architecture  in  Scotland.  Some  of  the 
sculptured  flowers  in  the  cloister  arches  are  re- 
markably beautiful  and  delicate,  and  the  two 
windows— the  south  and  east  oriels— are  of  a 
lightness  and  grace  of  execution  really  surpris- 
ing. We  saw  the  tomb  of  Michael  Scott,  of 
King  Alexander  II,  and  that  of  the  Douglas, 
marked  with  a  sword.  The  heart  of  Bruce  is 
supposed  to  have  been  buried  beneath  the  high 
altar.  The  chancel  is  all  open  to  the  sky,  and 
rooks  build  their  nests  among  the  wild  ivy  that 
climbs  over  the  crumbling  arches.  One  of  1  hoe 
came  tamely  down  and  perched  upon  the  hand 
of  our  fair  guide.  By  a  winding  stair  in  one  of 
the  towers  we  mounted  to  the  top  of  the  arch 
and  looked  down  on  the  grassy  floor.  1  sat  on 
the  broken  pillar,  which  Scott  always  used  for  a 
seat  when  he  visited  the  Abbey,  and  read  the 
disinterring  of  the  magic  book,  in  the  "  Lay  of 
the  Last  Minstrel."  1  never  comprehended  its 
full  beauty  till  then;  the  memory  of  Mel  rose 
will  give  it  a  thrilling  interest,  in  the  future. 
When  we  left,  I  was  willing  ". o  say.  with  the  Min- 
strel: 

"  Was  never  scene  so  sad  and  fair  !  " 

After  seeing  the  home  and  favorite  haunt  of 
Scott,  we  felt  a  wish  to  stand  by  his  grave,  but 
we  had  Ancrum  Moor  to  pass  before  night,  and 
Tweed  was  between  us  a-ul  Dry  burgh  Abbey. 


CfiOSSfWG  THE  CHEVIOTS.  51 

We  did  not  wish  to  try  another  watery  adven- 
ture,  and  therefore  walked  on  to  the  village  of 
Ancrum,  where  a  gate-keeper  on  the  road  gave 
us  lodging  and  good  fare,  for  a  moderate  price. 
Many  of  this  class  practice  the  double  employ- 
ment, and  the  economical  traveller,  who  looks 
more  to  comfort  than  luxury,  will  not  fail  to 
patronize  them. 

Next  morning  we  took  a  foot-path  over  the 
hills  to  Jedburgh.  From  the  summit  there  was 
a  lovely  view  of  the  valley  of  the  Teviot,  with 
the  blue  Cheviots  in  the  distance.  I  thought  of 
Pringle's  beautiful  farewell : 

"  Our  native  land,  our  native  vale, 

A  long,  a  last  adieu, 
Farewell  to  bonny  Teviot-dale, 
And  Cheviot's  mountains  blue  !  " 

The  poet  was  born  in  the  valley  below,  and  one 
that  looks  upon  its  beauty  cannot  wonder  how 
his  heart  clung  to  the  scenes  he  was  leaving. 
W<-  saw  Jedburgh  and  its  majestic  old  Abbey, 
and  ascended  the  valley  of  the  Jed  towrards  the 
Cheviots.  The  hills,  covered  with  woods  of  a 
richness  and  even  gorgeous  beauty  of  foliage, 
shut  out  this  lovely  glen  completely  from  the 
world.  I  found  myself  continually  coveting  the 
Ion  ly  dwellings  that  were  perched  on  the  rocky 
houvhts,  or  nestled,  like  a  fairy  pavilion,  in  the 
1 ; .  1  of  a  grove.  These  forest^  formerly  furnished 
the  wood  for  tho  celebrated  Jedwood  axe,  used 
in  tho  Border  forays. 

As  we  continued  ascending,  the  prospect  be- 
hind us  widened,  till  we  reached  the  summit  of 
the  Carter  Fell,  whence  there  is  a  view  of  great 
extent  and  beauty.  The  Eildon  hills,  though 
twenty-five  miles  distant,  seemed  in  the  fore- 
ground of  the  picture.  "\Vith  a  glass,  Edinburgh 
Castle  might  be  seen  over  the  dim  outline  of  the 
Muirfoot  Hills.  After  crossing  the  border,  we 
passed  the  scene  of  the  encounter  between  Percy 


84  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

and  Dcmglass,  celebrated  in  "Chevy  Chase,"  and 
at  the  lonely  inn  of  Whitelee,  in  the  valley  below, 
took  up  our  quarters  lor  1  lie  night. 

Travellers  have  described  tho  Cheviots  as  be- 
ing bleak  and  uninteresting.  Although  they  are 
bare  and  brown,  to  me  the  scenery  AVUS  of  a 
character  of  beauty  entirely  original.  They  a  re 
not  rugged  and  broken  like  the  Hiirhlands,  but 
lift  their  round  backs  gracefully  from  the  plain, 
while  the  more  distant  ranges  are  clad  in  many 
an  airy  hue.  Willis  quaintly  and  truly  remarks, 
that  travellers  only  tell  you  the  picture  pro- 
duced in  their  own  brain  by  what  they  see, 
otherwise  theAA'orldAvouldbelike  a  pawnbroker's 
shop,  where  each  traveller  wears  the  cast-off 
clothes  of  others.  Therefore  let  no  one,  of  a 
gloomy  temperament, journeying  over  the  Chev- 
iots in  dull  November,  arraign  me  for  having 
falsely  praised  their  beauty. 

I  was  someAvhat  amused  with  seeing  a  splen- 
did carriage  with  footmen  and  outriders,  cross- 
ing the  mountain,  the  glorious  landscape  full  in 
view,  containing  a  richly  dressed  lady,  fiist 
asleep!  It  is  no  uncommon  thing  to  meet  car- 
riages in  the  Highlands,  in  which  the  occupants 
are  comfortably  reading,  while  being  whirled 
through  the  finest  scenery.  And  apropos  of 
this  subject,  my  German  friend  related  to  me  an 
incident.  His  brother  WMS  travelling  on  the 
Rhine,  and  when  in  the  midst  of  the  grandest 
scenery,  met  a  carriage  containing  an  English 
gentleman  and  lady,  both  asleep,  while  on  the 
seat  behind  was  stationed  an  artist,  sketching 
away  with  all  his  might.  He  asked  the  latter 
the  reason  of  his  industry,  when  he  ansAvered, 
"Oh !  my  lord  wishes  to  see  every  night  what  he 
has  passed  during  the  day,  and  so  I  sketch  as 
we  go  along!" 

The  hills,  particularly  on  the  English  side,  are 
covered  with  flocks  of  sheep,  and  lazy  shepherds 
lay  basking  in  the  sun,  among  the  purple 


R  OMAN  R  UINS  IX  Jf£  WCA  S  TLE.          88 

heather,  with  their  shaggy  black  dogs  beside 
them.  On  many  of  the  hills  are  landmarks,  by 
which,  when  the  snow  has  covered  all  the  tracks, 
they  can  direct  their  way.  After  walking  many 
miles  through  green  valleys,  down  which  flowed 
the  Red  Water,  its  very  name  telling  of  the  con- 
flicts which  had  crimsoned  its  tide,  we  came  to 
the  moors,  and  ten  miles  of  blacker,  drearier 
waste  I  never  saw.  Before  entering  them  we 
passed  the  pretty  little  village  of  Otterburn, 
near  the  scene  of  the  battle.  I  brought  away  a 
wild  flower  that  grew  on  soil  enriched  by  the 
blood  of  the  Percy's.  On  the  village  inn,  is  their 
ancient  coat  of  arms,  a  lion  rampant,  on  a  field 
of  gold,  with  the  motto,  "Espertuice  en  Dieu." 
Scarcely  a  house  or  a  tree  enlivened  the  black 
waste,  and  even  the  road  was  marked  on  each 
side  by  high  poles,  to  direct  the  traveller  in  win- 
ter. We  were  glad  when  at  length  the  green 
fields  came  again  in  sight,  and  the  little  village 
of  Whelpington  Knowes,  with  its  old  ivy-grown 
tower,  welcomed  us  after  the  lonely  walk. 

As  one  specimen  of  the  intelligence  of  this  part 
of  England,  we  saw  a  board  conspicuously 
posted  at  the  commencement  of  a  private  road, 
declaring  that  "all  persons  travelling  this  way 
will  be  prosecuted."  As  it  led  to  a  church,  how- 
ever, there  may  have  been  a  design  in  the  expres- 
sion. 

On  the  fifth  day  r,  ."ter  leaving  Edinburgh,  we 
reached  a  hill,  overlooking  the  valley  of  the 
Tyne  and  the  German  Ocean,  as  sunset  was  red- 
dening in  the  west.  A  cloud  of  coal-smoke  made 
us  aware  of  the  vicinity  of  Newcastle.  On  the 
summit  of  the  hill  a  large  cattle  fair  was  being 
held,  and  crowds  of  people  were  gathered  in  and 
around  a  camp  of  gaudily  decorated  tents. 
Fires  were  kindled  here  and  there,  and  drinking, 
carousing  and  horse-racing  were  flourishing  in 
full  vigor. 

We  set  out  one  morning  to  hunt  the  Roman 


M  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

Wall.  Passing-  the  fine  buildings  in  the-  centre 
of  the  city  and  the  lofty  monument  to  Karl 
Grey,  we  went  towards  the  western  gate  and 
soon  came  to  the  ruins  of  a  building,  about 
whose  origin  there  could  be  no  doubt.  It  stood 
there,  blackened  by  the  rust  of  ages,  a  remnant 
of  power  passed  away.  There  was  no  mistaking 
the  massive  round  tower,  with  its  projecting  or- 
naments, such  as  are  often  seen  in  the  ruder 
works  of  the  Romans.  On  each  side  a  fragment 
of  wall  remained  standing,  and  there  appeared 
to  be  a  chamber  in  the  interior,  which  was 
choked  up  with  rubbish.  There  is  another 
tower,  much  higher,  in  a  public  square  in 
another  part  of  the  city,  a  portion  of  which  is 
fitted  up  as  a  dwelling  for  the  family  which  takes 
care  of  it;  but  there  was  such  a  ridiculous  con- 
trast between  the  ivy-grown  top,  and  the  hand- 
some modern  windows  and  doors  of  the  lower 
story,  that  it  did  not  impress  me  half  as  much 
as  the  other,  with  all  its  neglect.  These  are  the 
farthest  limits  of  that  power  whose  mighty 
works  I  hope  hereafter  to  view  at  the  seat  of  her 
grandeur  and  glory. 

I  witnessed  a  scene  at  Newcastle  that  cannot 
soon  be  forgotten;  as  it  showed  more  plainly 
than  I  had  before  an  opportunity  of  observing, 
the  state  to  which  the  laboring  "classes  of  Eng- 
land are  reduced.  Hearing  singing  in  the  street, 
under  my  window,  one  morning,  I  looked  out 
and  saw  a  body  of  men,  apparently  of  the  lower 
class,  but  decent  and  sober  looking,  who  were 
ringing  in  a  rude  and  plaintive  strain  some  bal- 
Jad,  the  purport  of  which  I  could  not  under- 
stand. On  making  inquiry,  I  discovered  it  was 
part  of  a  body  of  miners,  who,  about  eighteen 
weeks  before,  in  consequence  of  not  being  able 
to  support  their  families  with  the  small  pittance 
allowed  them,  had  "struck"  for  higher  wages. 
This  their  employers  refused  to  give  them,  and 
seat  to  Wales,  where  they  obtaineci  workmen  at 


DEPARTURE  FOR  LONDON.  67 

the  former  price.  The  houses  these  laborers  had 
occupied  were  all  taken  from  them,  and  for 
eighteen  weeks  they  had  no  other  means  of  sub- 
sistence than  the  casual  charity  given  them  for 
singing  the  story  of  their  wrongs.  It  made  my 
blood  boil  to  hear  those  tones,  wrung  from  the 
heart  of  poverty  by  the  hand  of  tyranny.  The 
ignorance,  permitted  by  the  government,  causes 
an  unheard  amount  of  misery  and  degradation. 
We  heard  afterwards  in  the  streets,  another 
company  who  played  on  musical  instruments. 
Beneath  the  proud  swell  of  England's  martial 
airs,  there  souuded  to  my  ears  a  tone  whose 
gathering  murmur  will  make  itself  heard  ere 
long  by  the  dull  ears  of  Power. 

At  last  at  the  appointed  time,  we  found  our- 
selves on  board  the  "  London  Merchant,"  in  the 
muddy  Tyne,  waiting  for  the  tide  to  rise  high 
enough  to  permit  us  to  descend  the  river.  There 
is  great  competition  among  the  steamboats  this 
BU miner,  and  the  price  of  passage  to  London  is 
reduced  to  five  and  ten  shillings.  The  second 
cabin,  however,  is  a  place  of  tolerable  comfort, 
and  as  the  steward  had  promised  to  keep  berths 
for  us,  we  engaged  passage.  Following  the 
windings  of  the  narrow  river,  we  passed  Sunder- 
land  and  Tynemouth,  where  it  expands  into  the 
German  Ocean.  The  water  was  barely  stirred 
by  a  gentle  wind,  and  little  resembled  the 
stormy  sea  I  expected  to  find  it.  We  glided  over 
the  smooth  surface,  watching  the  blue  line  of 
the  distant  shore  till  dark,  when  I  went  below 
expecting  to  enjoy  a  few  hours'  oblivion.  But 
the  faithless  steward  had  given  up  the  promised 
berth  to  another,  and  it  wras  only  with  difficulty 
that  I  secured  a  seab  by  the  cabin  table,  where  I 
dozed  half  the  night  with  my  head  on  my  arms. 
It  grew  at  last  too  close  and  wearisome;  I  went 
up  on  deck  and  lay  down  on  the  windlass,  taking 
care  to  balance  myself  well  before  going  to  sleep. 
The  earliest  light  of  dawn  awoke  ine  to  a  con- 


38  VIEWS   A-FOOT. 

Bciousness  of  damp  clothes  and  bruised 
We  were  in  sight  of  the  low  shore  the  whole  d;i y. 
Bometimes  seeing  the  dim  outline  of  a  church,  or 
group  of  trees  over  the  downs  or  flat  beds  of 
Hand,  which  border  the  eastern  coast  of  Eng- 
land. About  dark,  the  red  light  of  the  Kore  wan 
seen,  and  we  hoped  bcforo  many  hours  to  be  in 
London.  The  lights  of  Gravesend  were  passed, 
but  about  ten  o'clock,  as  we  entered  the  narrov 
channel  of  the-  Thames,  we  struck  another 
steamboat  in  the  darkness,  and  were  obi iged  1o 
cast  anchor  for  some  time.  When  I  went  on 
deck  in  the  gray  light  of  morning  again,  we  were 
gliding  up  a  narrow,  muddy  liver,  between  rows 
of  gloomy  buildings,  with  many  vessels  lying  at 
anchor.  It  grew  lighter,  till,  as  we  turned  a 
point,  right  before  me  lay  a  vast  crowd  of  ves- 
sels, and  in  the  distance,  above  the  wilderness  of 
buildings,  stood  a  dim,  gigantic  dome  in  the 
sky ;  what  a  bound  my  heart  gave  at  the  sight ! 
And  the  tall  pillar  that  stood  near  it — I  did  not 
need  a  second  glance  to  recognize  the  Monu- 
ment. I  knew  the  majestic  bridge  that  spanned 
the  river  above ;  but  on  the  right  bank  stood  a 
cluster  of  massive  buildings,  crowned  with  many 
a  turret,  that  attracted  my  eye.  A  crowd  of 
old  associations  pressed  bewilderingly  upon  the 
mind,  to  see  standing  there,  grim  and  dark  with 
many  a  bloody  page  of  England's  history — the 
Tower  of  London  I  The  morning  sky  was  "as  yet 
but  faintly  obscured  by  the  coal-smoke,  and  in 
the  misty  light  of  coming  sunrise,  all  objects 
seemed  grander  than  their  wont.  In  spite  of  the 
thrilling  interest  of  the  scene,  I  could  not  help 
thinking  of  Byron's  ludicrous  but  most  expres- 
«ve  description : 


'*  A  mighty  mass  of1  brick  and  smoke  and  shipping, 

Dirty  and  dusky,  but  as  wide  as  eye 
Can  reach  ;  with  here  and  there  a  sail  just  skipping 
In  sight,  then  lost  amidst  the  forestry 


LONDON. 

Of  masts  ;  a  wilderness  of  steeples  peeping 
On  tiptoe  through  their  sea-coal  canopy  ; 
A  huge  dun  cupola,  like  a  fool's-cap  crown 
On  a  fool's  head, — and  there  is  London  town." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

SOME  OF  THE  "  SIGHTS"  OF  LONDON. 

In  the  course  of  time  we  came  to  anchor  in 
fche  stream ;  skiffs  from  the  shore  pulled  along- 
side, and  after  some  little  quarrelling1,  we  were 
safely  deposited  in  one,  with  a  party  who  de- 
sired to  be  landed  at  the  Tower  Stairs.  The 
dark  walls  frowned  above  us  as  we  mounted 
from,  the  water  and  passed  into  an  open  square 
on  the  outside  of  the  moat.  The  laborers  were 
about  commencing  work,  the  fashionable  day 
having  just  closed,  but  there  \vas  still  noise  and 
bustle  enough  in  the  streets,  particularly  when 
we  reached  Whitechapel,  part  of  the  great 
thoroughfare,  extending  through  the  heart  of 
London  to  Westminster  Abbey  and  the  Parlia- 
ment buildings.  "  Further  on,  through  Leaden- 
hall  street  and  Fleet  street — what  a  world! 
Here  come  the  ever-thronging,  ever-rolling 
waves  of  life,  pressing  and  whirling  on  in  their 
tumultuous  career.  Here  day  and  night  pours 
the  stream  of  human  beings,  seeming  amid  the 
roar  and  din  and  clatter  of  the  passing  vehi- 
cles, like  the  tide  of  some  great  combat/  (How 
lonely  it  makes  one  to  stand  still  and  feel  that 
of  all  the  mighty  throng  which  divides  itself 
around  him,  not  a  being  knows  or  cares  for 
him!  What  knows  he  too  of  the  thousands 
who  pass  him  by?  How  many  who  bear  the 
impress  of  godlike  virtue,  or  hide  beneath  a 
goodly  countenance  a  heart  black  with  crime? 


«0  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

How  many  fiery  spirits,  all  glowing  with  hop* 
for  the  ^Tet  unclouded  future,' or  brooding  over 
a  darkened  and  desolate  past  in  the  agony  of 
despair?  There  is  a  sublimity  in  this  human 
Niagara  that  makes  one  look  on  his  own  race 
with  something  of  awe.) 

We  walked  down  the  Thames,  through  the 
narrow  streets  of  Wapping.  Over  the  mouth 
of  the  Tunnel  is  a  large  circular  building,  with  a 
dome  to  light  the  entrance  below.  Paying  the 
fee  of  a  penny,  we  descended  by  a  winding  stair- 
case to  the  bottom,  which  is  seventy-three  feet 
below  the  surface.  The  carriage-way,  still  un- 
finished, will  extend  further  into  the  city.  From 
the  bottom  the  view  of  the  two  arches  of  the 
Tunnel,  brilliantly  lighted  with  gas,  is  very  fine; 
it  has  a  much  less  heavy  and  gloomy  appear- 
ance than  I  expected.  As  Ave  walked  along 
under  the  bed  of  the  river,  two  or  three  girls  at 
one  end  began  pla}'ing  on  the  French  horn  and 
bugle,  and  the  echoes,  when  not  too  deep  to  con- 
fuse the  melody,  were  remarkably  beautiful. 
Between  the  arches  of  the  division  separating 
the  two  passages,  are  shops,  occupied  by  ven- 
ders of  fancy  articles,  views  of  the  Tunnel,  en- 
gravings, etc.  In  the  middle  is  a  small  printing 
press,  where  a  sheet  containing 'a  description  of 
the  whole  work  is  printed  for  those  who  desire 
it.  As  I  was  no  stranger  to  this  art,  I  requested 
the  boy  to  let  me  print  one  myself,  but  he  had 
such  a  bad  roller  I  did  not  succeed  in  getting  a 
good  impression.  The  air  within  is  somewhat 
damp,  but  fresh  and  agreeably  cool,  and  one 
can  scarcely  realize  in  walking  along  the  light 
passage,  that  a  river  is  rolling  above  his  head. 
The  immense  solidity  and  compactness  of  the 
structure  precludes  the  danger  of  accident,  each 
of  the  sides  being  arched  outwards,  so  that  the 
heaviest  pressure  only  strengthens  the  whole. 
It  will  long  remain  a  noble  monument  of  human 
daring  and  ingenuity. 


ST.  PAUL'S.  61 

St.  Paul's  is  on  a  scale  of  grandeur  excelling 
everything  I  have  yet  seen.  The  dome  seems  to 
stand  in  the  sky,  as  you  look  up  to  it;  the  dis- 
tance from  which  you  view  it,  combined  with  the 
atmosphere  of  London,  give  it  a  dim,  shadowy 
appearance,  that  perfectly  startles  one  with  its 
immensity.  The  roof  from  which  the  dome 
springs  is  itself  as  high  as  the  spires  of  most 
other  churches — blackened  for  two  hundred 
years  with  the  coal-smoke  of  London,  it  stands 
like  a  relic  of  the  giant  architecture  of  the  early 
world.  The  interior  is  what  one  would  expect 
to  behold,  after  viewing  the  outside.  A  maze  of 
grand  arches  on  every  side,  encompasses  the 
dome,  which  you  gaze  up  at,  as  at  the  sky ;  and 
from  every  pillar  and  wall  look  down  the  mar- 
ble forms  of  the  dead.  There  is  scarcely  a  va- 
cant niche  left  in  all  this  mighty  hall,  so  many 
are  the  statues  that  meet  one  on  every  side. 
With  the  exceptions  of  John  Howard,  Sir  Ashley 
Cooper  and  Wren,  whose  monument  is  the 
church  itself,  they  are  all  to  military  men.  I 
thought  if  they  had  all  been  removed  except 
Howard's,  it  would  better  have  suited  such  a 
temple,  and  the  great  soul  it  commemorated. 

I  never  was  more  impressed  with  the  grandeur 
of  human  invention,  than  when  ascending  the 
dome.  I  could  with  difficulty  conceive  the  means 
by  which  such  a  mighty  edifice  had  been  lifted 
into  the  air.  That  small  frame  of  Sir  Christo- 
pher Wren  must  have  contained  a  mind  capable 
of  vast  conceptions.  The  dome  is  like  the  sum 
mit  of  a  mountain ;  so  wide  is  the  prospect,  and 
so  great  the  pile  upon  which  you  stand.  Lon- 
don lay  beneath  us,  like  an  ant-hill,  with  the 
black  insects  swarming  to  and  fro  in  their  long 
avenues,  the  sound  of  their  employments  com- 
ing up  like  the  roar  of  the  sea.  A  cloud  of  coal- 
smoke  hung  over  it,  through  which  many  a 
pointed  spire  was  thrust  up;  sometimes  the 
wind  would  blow  it  aside  for  a  moment,  and  the 


62  VTEWS  A-FOOT. 

thousands  of  red  roofs  would  shine  out  clearer. 
The  bridged  Thames,  covered  with  craft  of  all 
sizes,  wound  beneath  us  like  a  ringed  and  spot- 
ted serpent.  The  scene  was  like  an  immense  cir- 
cular picture  in  the  blue  frame  of  the  hills 
around. 

Continuing  our  way  up  Fleet  street,  which, 
notwithstanding  the  gaiety  of  its  shops  and  its 
constant  bustle,  has  an  antique  appearance,  we 
came  to  the  Temple  Bar,  the  western  boundary 
of  the  ancient  city.  In  the  inside  of  the  middle 
arch,  the  old  gates  are  still  standing.  From  this 
point  we  entered  the  new  portion  of  the  city, 
which  wore  an  air  of  increasing  splendor  as  \\  c 
advanced.  The  appearance  of  the  Strand  and 
Trafalgar  Square  is  truly  magnificent.  Fan<-y 
every  house  in  Broadway  a  store,  all  built  of 
light  granite,  the  Park  stripped  of  all  its  trc<-> 
and  paved  with  granite,  and  a  lofty  column  in 
the  centre,  double  the  crowd  and  the  tumult  of 
business,  and  you  will  have  some  idea  of  the 
view. 

It  was  a  relief  to  get  into  St.  James's  Park, 
among  the  trees  and  flowers  again.  Here,  beau- 
tiful winding  walks  led  around  little  lakes,  in 
which  were  hundreds  of  water-fowl,  swimming. 
Groups  of  merry  children  were  sporting  on  the 
green  lawn,  enjoying  their  privilege  of  roaming 
everywhere  at  will,  while  the  older  bipeds  were 
confined  to  the  regular  walks.  At  the  western 
end  stood  Buckingham  Palace,  looking  over  the 
trees  towards  St.  Paul's;  through  the  grove  OD 
the  eminence  above,  the  towers  of  St.  James's 
could  be  seen.  But  there  was  a  dim  building 
with  two  lofty  square  towers,  decorated  with  $, 
profusion  of  pointed  Gothic  pinnacles,  that  \. 
looked  at  with  more  interest  than  these  append- 
ages of  royalty.  I  could  not  linger  long  in  its 
vicinity,  but  going  back  again  by  the  Horse 
Guards,  took  the  road  to  Westminster  Abbey. 

We    approached    by    the    general  entrance, 


WESTMINSTER  ABBET.  63 

Poet's  Corner.  I  hardly  stopped  to  look  at  the 
elaborate  exterior  of  Henry  Vllth's  Chapel,  but 
passed  on  to  the  door.  On  entering,  the  first 
thing  that  met  my  eyes  were  the  words,  "On 
RARE  BEN  JONSON,"  under  his  bust.  Near  by 
stood  the  monuments  of  Spenser  and  Gay,  and 
a  few  paces  further  .looked  down  the  sublime 
countenance  of  Milton.  Never  w>as  a  spot  so  full 
of  intense  interest.  The  light  was  just  dim 
enough  to  give  it  a  solemn,  religious  appear- 
ance, making  the  marble  forms  of  poets  and 
philosophers  so  shadowy  and  impressive,  that  I 
felt  as  if  standing  in  their  living  presence. 
K\  <>ry  step  called  up  some  mind  linked  with  the 
associations  of  my  childhood.  There  was  the 
gentle  feminine  countenance  of  Thompson,  and 
the  majestic  head  of  Dryden;  Addison  \vith  his 
classic  features,  and  Gray,  full  of  the  fire  of  lofty 
thought.  In  another  chamber,  I  paused  long  be- 
fore the  ashes  of  Shakespeare ;  and  while  looking 
at  the  monument  of  Garrick,  started  to  find 
that  I  stood  upon  his  grave.  What  a  glorious 
galaxy  of  genius  is  here  collected — what  a  con- 
stellation of  stars  whose  light  is  immortal! 
The  mind  is  completely  fettered  by  their  spirit. 
Everything  is  forgotten  but  the  mighty  dead, 
who  still  "rule  us  from  their  urns." 

The  chapel  of  Henry  VII.,  which  we  next  en- 
It  TCI!  ,  is  one  of  the  most  elaborate  specimens  of 
Gothic  workmanship  in  the  world.  If  the  first 
idea  of  the  Gothic  arch  sprung  from  observing 
the  forms  of  trees,  this  chapel  must  resemble  the 
first  conceptions  of  that  order,  for  the  fluted  col- 
umns rise  up  like  tall  trees,  branching  out  at  the 
top  into  spreading  capitals  covered  with  leaves, 
and  supporting  arches  of  the  ceiling  resembling 
a  leafy  roof. 

The  side-chapels  are  filled  with  tombs  of 
knightly  families,  the  husband  and  wife  lying  on 
their  backs  on  the  tombs,  with  their  hands 
clasped,  while  their  children,  about  the  size  of 


»4  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

dolls,  are  kneeling  around.  Numberless  are  the 
Barons  and  Earls  and  Dukes,  whose  grim  effigies 
stare  from  their  tombs.  In  opposite  chapels  are 
the  tombs  of  Alary  and  Elizabeth,  and  near  the 
former  that  of  Darnley.  After  having  visited 
many  of  the  scenes  of  her  life,  it  was  with  no  or- 
dinary emotion  that  I  stood  by  the  sepulchre  of 
Mary.  How  differently  one  looks  upon  it  and 
upon  that  of  the  proud  Elizabeth. 

We  descended  to  the  Chapel  of  Edward  the 
Confessor,  within  the  splendid  shrine  of  which  re- 
pose his  ashes.  Here  we  were  shown  the  chair 
on  which  the  English  monarchs  have  been 
crowned  for  several  hundred  37ears.  Under  the 
seat  is  the  stone  brought  from  the  Abbey  of 
Scone,  whereon  the  kings  of  Scotland  were 
crowned.  The  chair  is  of  oak,  carved  and 
hacked  over  with  names,  and  on  the  bottom 
some  one  lias  recorded  his  name  with  the  fact 
that  he  once  slept  in  it.  We  sat  down  and 
rested  in  it  without  ceremony.  Passing  along 
an  aisle  leading  to  the  grand  hall,  we  saw  'the 
tomb  of  Aymer  de  Valence,  a  knight  of  the  Cru- 
sades. Near  here  is  the  hall  where  the  Knights 
of  the  order  of  Bath  met.  Over  each  seat  their 
dusty  banners  are  still  hanging,  each  with  its 
crest,  and  their  armor  is  rusting  upon  the  wall. 
It  seem'ed  like  a  banqueting  hall  of  the  olden 
time,  where  the  knights  had  left  their  seats  for  a 
moment  vacant.  Entering  the  nave,  we  were 
lost  in  the  wilderness  of  sculpture.  Here  stood 
the  forms  of  Pitt,  Fox,  Burke,  Sheridan  and 
Watts,  from  the  chisels  of  Chantry,  Bacon  and 
Westmax3ott.  Further  down  were  Sir  Isaac  New- 
ton and  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller — opposite  Andre, 
and  Paoli,  the  Italian,  who  died  here  in  exile. 
How  can  I  convey  an  idea  of  the  scene?  Not- 
withstanding all  the  descriptions  I  had  read,  I 
was  totally  unprepared  for  the  reality,  nor  could 
I  have  anticipated  the  hushed  and  breathless  in- 
terest with  which  I  paced  the  dim  aisles,  gazing, 


THE  NA  TIONAL  GALLERT.  65 

at  every  step,  on  the  last  resting  place  of  some 
great  and  familiar  name.  A  place  so  sacred  to 
all  who  inherit  the  English  tongue,  is  worthy  of 
a  special  pilgrimage  across  the  deep.  To  those 
who  are  unable  to  visit  it,  a  description  may  be 
interesting ;  but  so  far  does  it  fall  short  of  the 
scene  itself,  that  if  I  thought  it  would  induce  a 
few  of  our  wealthy  idlers,  or  even  those  who, 
like  myself,  must  travel  with  toil  and  privation 
to  come  hither,  I  would  write  till  the  pen 
dropped  from  my  hand. 

More  than  twenty  grand  halls  of  the  British 
Museum  are  devoted  to  antiquities,  and  include 
the  Elgin  Marbles — the  spoils  of  the  Parthenon 
— the  Fellows  Marbles,  brought  from  the  ancient 
city  of  Xanthus,  and  Sir  William  Hamilton's 
collection  of  Italian  antiquities.  It  was  painful 
to  see  the  friezes  of  th»  Parthenon,  broken  and 
defaced  as  they  are,  in  such  a  place.  Rather  let 
them  moulder  to  dust  on  the  ruin  from  which 
they  were  torn,  shining  through  the  blue  veil  of 
the  Grecian  atmosphere,  from  the  summit  of  the 
Acropolis ! 

The  National  Gallery,  on  Trafalgar  Square,  is 
open  four  days  in  the  week,  to  the  public.  The 
"Raising  of  Lazarus,"  by  Sebastian  del  Piom- 
bo,  is  considered  the  gem  of  the  collection,  but 
my  unschooled  eyes  could  not  view  it  as  such. 
It  is  also  remarkable  for  having  been  trans- 
ferred from  wood  to  canvas,  without  injury. 
This  delicate  operation  was  accomplished  by 
gluing  the  panel  on  which  it  was  painted,  flat  on 
a  smooth  table,  and  planing  the  wood  gradu- 
ally away  till  the  coat  of  hardened  paint  alone 
remained.  A  proper  canvas  was  then  prepared, 
covered  with  a  strong  cement,  and  laid  on  the 
back  of  the  picture,  which  adhered  firmly  to  it. 
The  owner's  nerves  must  have  had  a  severe  trial, 
if  he  had  courage  to  watch  the  operation.  I  was 
enraptured  with  Murillo's  pictures  of  St.  John 
and  the  Holy  Family.  St,  John  is  represented 


fW  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

as  a  boy  in  the  woods,  fondling  a  lamb.    It  is  a 

glorious  head.  The  dark  curls  cluster  around 
is  fair  brow,  and  his  eyes  seem  already  glowing 
with  the  fire  of  future  inspiration.  There  is  an 
innocence,  a  childish  sweetness  of  expression  in 
the  countenance,  which  makes  one  love  toga/.e 
upon  it.  Both  of  these  paintings  were  constantly 
surrounded  by  ladies,  and  they  certainly  de- 
served the  preference.  In  the  rooms  devoted  to 
English  artists,  there  are  many  of  the  finest 
works  )f  West,  Reynolds,  Hogarth  and  Wilkie. 
We  spent  a  day  in  visiting  the  lungs  of  Lon- 
don, as  the  two  grand  parks  have  been  called. 
From  the  Strand  through  the  Regent  Circus,  the' 
centre  of  the  fashionable  part  of  the  city,  we 
passed  to  Piccadilly,  calling  on  our  way  to  see 
our  old  friends,  the  lowas.  They  were  at  the 
Egyptian  Hall,  in  connexion  with  Catlin's  Indian 
collection.  The  old  braves  knew  us  at  once,  par- 
ticularly Blister  Feet,  who  used  often  to  walk  a 
line  on  deck  with  me,  at  sea.  Further  along  Pic- 
cadilly is  Wellington's  mansion  of  Apsley  House, 
and  nearly  opposite  it,  in  the  corner  "of  Hyde 
Park,  stands  the  colossal  statue  of  Achilles,  cast 
from  cannon  taken  at  Salamanca  nnd  Yittoria. 
The  Park  resembles  an  open  common,  with  here 
and  there  a  grove  of  trees,  intersected  by  car- 
riage roads.  It  is  like  getting  into  the  country 
again  to  be  out  on  its  broad,  green  field,  with 
the  city  seen  dimly  around  through  the  smoky 
atmosphere.  We  walked  for  a  mile  or  two  along 
the  shady  avenues  and  over  the  lawns,  having  a 
view  of  the  princely  terraces  and  gardens  on  one 
hand,  and  the  gentle  outline  of  Primrose  Hill  on 
the  other.  Regent's  Park  itself  covers  a  space 
of  nearly  four  hundred  acres! 

But  if  London  is  unsurpassed  in  splendor,  it 
has  also  its  corresponding  share  of  crime.  Not- 
withstanding the  large  and  efficient 'body  of  po- 
lice, who  do  much  towards  the  control  of  vice, 
one  sees  enough  of  degradation  and  brutality  in 


FAREWELL   TO  LONDON.  57 

f.j  short  time,  to  make  his  heart  pick.  Even  the 
public  thoroughfares  are  thronged  at  night  with 
characters  of  the  lowest  description,  and  it  is 
not  expedient  to  go  through  many  of  the  nar- 
row bye-haunts  of  the  old  city  in  the  day-time. 
The  police,  who  are  ever  on  the  watch,  immedi- 
ately seize  and  carry  off  any  offender,  but  from 
the  statements  of  persons  who  have  had  an 
opportunity  of  observing,  as  well  as  from  my 
'>wn  slight  experience,  I  am  convinced  that  there 
IB  an  untold  amount  of  misery  and  crime.  Lon- 
don is  one  of  the  wonders  of  the  world,  but  there 
:  8  reason  to  believe  it  is  one  of  the  curses  of  the 
world  also;  though,  in  fact,  nothing  but  an 
active  and  unceasing  philanthropy  can  prevent 
any  city  from  becoming  so. 

Aug.  22. — I  have  now  been  six  days  in  Lon- 
uon,  and  by  making  good  use  of  my  feet  and 
i -yes,  have  managed  to  become  familiar  with 
almost  every  object  of  interest  within  its  pre- 
vincts.  Having  a  plan  mapped  out  for  the  day, 
\  started  from  my  humble  lodgings  at  the  Aid- 
gate  Coffee  House,  where  I  slept  off  fatigue  for  a 
shilling  a  night,  and  walked  up  Cheapsido  or 
down  Whitecnapel,  as  the  case  might  be,  hunt- 
ing out  my  way  to  churches,  halls  and  theatres. 
In  this  way,  at  a  trifling  expense,  I  have  per- 
haps seen  as  much  as  many  who  spend  here 
double  the  time  and  ten  times  the  money.  <  )ur 
whole  tour  from  Liverpool  hither,  by  way  of  Ire- 
land and  Scotland,  cost  us  but  twenty-five  dol- 
lars each!  although,  except  in  one  or  two  c 
we  denied  ourselves  no  necessary  comfort.  This 
shows  that  the  glorious  privilege  of  looking  on 
the  scenes  of  the  old  world  need  not  be  confined 
to  people  of  wealth  and  leisure.  It  may  be 
enjoyed  by  all  who  can  occasionally  forego  a 
little  bodily  comfort  for  the  sake  of  mental  and 
spiritual  gain.  We  leave  this  afternoon  for 
Dover.  To-morrow  I  shall  dine  in  Belgium  1 


(ig  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 


CHAPTER  YII. 

FLIGHT  THROUGH  BELGIUM. 

Bruges.  —  On  the  Continent  at  last!  How 
strangely  look  the  century-old  towers,  antique 
monuments,  and  quaint,  narrow  streets  of  the 
Flemish  cities!  It  is  an  agreeable  and  yet  ;i 
painful  sense  of  novelty  to  stand  for  the  first 
time  in  the  midst  of  a  people  whose  language 
and  manner  is  different  from  one's  own.  The 
old  buildings  around,  linked  with  many  a  stil- 
ling association  of  past  history,  gratify  the 
glowing  anticipations  with  which  one  has  looked 
forward  to  seeing  them,  and  the  fancy  is  busy  at 
work  reconciling  the  real  scene  with  the  ideal; 
but  the  want  of  a  communication  with  the  liv- 
ing world  about,  walls  one  up  with  a  sense  of 
loneliness  he  could  not  before  have  conceived.  1 
envy  the  children  in  the  streets  of  Bruges  their 
childish  language. 

Yesterday  afternoon  we  came  from  London 
through  the  green  wooded  lawns  and  vales  of 
England,  to  Dover,  which  we  reached  nt  sunset, 
passing  by  a  long  tunnel  through  the  lofty 
Shakespeare  Cliff.  We  had  barely  time  before 
it  grew  dark  to  ascend  the  cliff.  'The  glorious 
coast  view  looked  still  wilder  in  the  gathering 
twilight,  which  soon  hid  from  our  sight  the  dim 
hills  of  France.  On  the  cliff  opposite  frowned 
the  massive  battlements  of  the  Castle,  guarding 
the  town,  which  lay  in  a  nook  of  the  rocks  be'- 
low.  As  the  Ostend  boat  was  to  leave  at  four  i» 
the  morning,  my  cousin  aroused  us  at  three,  and 
we  felt  our  way  down  stairs  in  the  dark.  But 
the  landlord  was  reluctant  to  part  with  us ;  w« 


LANDING  AT  OS  TEND.  69 

stamped  and  shouted  and  rang  bells,  till  the 
whole  house  was  in  an  uproar,  for  the  door  was 
double-locked,  and  the  steamboat  bell  began  to 
sound.  At  last  he  could  stand  it  no  longer; 
we  grnve  a  quick  utterance  to  our  overflowing 
wrath,  and  rushed  down  to  the  boat  but  a 
second  or  two  before  it  left. 

The  water  of  the  Channel  was  smooth  as  glass 
and  as  the  sun  rose,  the  far  chalky  cliffs  gleamed 
along  the  horizon,  a  belt  of  fire.  I  waved  a 
good-bye  to  Old  England  and  thtu  turned  to 
see  the  spires  of  Dunkirk,  which  \v*/re  visible  in 
the  distance  before  us.  On  the  low  Belgian 
coast  we  could  see  trees  and  steepl.-s,  resembling 
a  mirage  over  the  level  surface  of  the  sea;  at 
length,  about  ten  o'clock,  the  Bquare  tower  of 
Osteud  came  in  sight.  The  boat  passed  into  a 
long  muddy  basin,  in  which  nany  unwieldy,  red- 
sailed  Dutch  craft  wrere  lying  ,  and  stopped  beside 
a  high  pier.  Here  amid  tli  3  confusion  of  three 
languages,  an  officer  came  on  board  and  took 
charge  of  our  passports  t,iid  luggage.  As  we 
could  not  get  the  former  for  two  or  three  hours, 
we  did  not  hurry  the  passing  of  the  latter,  and 
went  on  shore  quite  unincumbered,  for  a  stroll 
about  the  city,  disregarding  the  cries  of  the 
hackney-coachmen  on  the  pier,  "Hotel  d'  AngJe- 
terre,"  "Hotel  des  JBainsI"  and  another  who 
called  out  in  English,  "I  recommend  you  to  the 
Royal  Hotel,  sir ! " 

There  is  little  to  be  seen  in  Ostend.  We  wan- 
dered through  long  rows  of  plain  yellow  houses, 
trying  to  read  the  French  and  low  Dutch  signs, 
and  at  last  came  out  on  the  wall  near  the  sea. 
.  A  soldier  motioned  us  back  as  we  attempted  to 
ascend  it,  and  muttering  some  unintelligible 
words,  pointed  to  a  narrow  street  near.  Fol- 
lowing this  out  of  curiosity,  we  crossed  the  moot 
and  found  ourselves  on  the  great  bathing  bc;;cb. 
To  get  out  of  the  hands  of  the  servants  who 
immediately  surrounded  us,  we  jumped  into  one 


7«  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

of  the  little  wagons  and  were  driven  out  into  th* 
surf. 

To  be  certain  of  fulfilling  the  railroad  regula- 
tions, we  took  our  seats  quarter  of  an  hour  be- 
fore  the  time.  The  dark  walls  of  Ostend  soon 
vanished  and  we  were  whirled  rapidly  over  a 
country  perfectly  level,  but  highly  fertile  and 
well  cultivated.  Occasionally  there  was  a  ditch 
or  row  of  trees,  but  otherwise  there  was  no  divis- 
ion between  the  fields,  and  the  plain  stretched 
unbroken  away  into  the  distance.  The 'twenty 
miles  to  Bruges  we  made  in  forty  minutes.  The 
streets  of  this  antique  city  are  narrow  and 
crooked,  and  the  pointed,  ornamental  gables  oi 
the  houses,  produce  a  novel  impression  on  one 
who  has  been  accustomed  to  the  green  American 
forests.  Then  there  was  the  endless  sound  of 
wooden  shoes  clattering  over  the  rough  pave, 
ments,  and  people  talking  in  that  most  unmu- 
sical of  all  languages,  low  Dutch.  Walking  at 
random  through  the  streets,  we  came  by  chance 
upon  the  Cathedral  of  Notre  Dame.  I  shall  long 
remember  my  first  impression  of  the  scene  within. 
The  lofty  go thic  ceiling  arched  far  above  my  head 
and  through  the  stained  windows  the  light  came 
but  dimly — it  was  all  still,  solemn  and  religious. 
A  few  worshippers  were  kneeling  in  silence  before 
some  of  the  shrines  and  the  echo  of  my  tread 
eeemed  like  a  profaning  sound.  On  every  side 
were  pictures,  saints  and  gilded  shrines.  A  few 
steps  removed  one  from  the  bustle  and  din  of 
the  crowd  to  the  stillness  and  solemnity  of  the 
holy  retreat. 

We  learned  from  the  guide,  whom  we  had  en- 
gaged  because  he  spoke  a  few  words  of  English, 
that  there  was  still  a  treckshuyt  line  on  the 
canals,  and  that  one  boat  leaves  to-night  at  ten 
o'clock  for  Ghent.  Wishing  to  try  this  old  Dutch 
method  of  travelling,  he  took  us  about  half  a 
mile  along  the  Ghent  road  to  the  canal,  where  a 
moderate  sized  boat  was  lying.  Our  baggage 


CHIMES  OF  BRUGES,  Tl 

deposited  in  the  plainly  furnished  cabin,  I  ran 
back  to  Bruges,  although  it  was  beginning  to 

£iow  dark,  to  get  a  sight  of  the  belfry;  for 
ongfellow's  lines  had  been  running  through  my 
head  all  day : 

"  In  the  market  place  of  Bruges,  stands   the  belfry  old  and 

brown, 

Thrice  consumed  and  thric  erebuilded,  still  it  watches  o'er 
the  town  " 

And  having  found  the  square,  brown  tower  in 
one  corner  of  the  open  market  square,  we  waited 
to  hear  the  chimes,  which  are  said  to  be  the 
fiin^t  in  Europe.  They  rang  out  at  last  with  a 
clear  silvery  tone,  most  beautifully  musical  in- 
deed. We  then  returned  to  the  boat  in  the  twi- 
light. We  were  to  leave  in  about  an  hour,  ac- 
cording to  the  arrangement,  but  as  yet  there 
was  no  sound  to  be  heard,  and  we  were  the  only 
triianls.  However,  trusting  to  Dutch  regular- 
ity, we  went  to  sleep  in  the  full .  confidence  of 
awakening  i;i  Ghent. 

I  awoke  once  in  the  night  and  saw  the  dark 
branches  of  trees  passing  before  the  window,  but 
there  was  no  perceptible  sound  nor  motion ;  the 
boat  glided  along  like  a  dream,  and  wo  were 
awakened  next  morning  by  its  striking  against 
the  pier  at  Ghent.  After  paying  three  francs  for 
the  whole  night  journey,  the  captain  gave  us  a 
guide  to  the  railroad  station,  and  as  we  had 
nearly  an  hour  before  the  train  left,  I  went  to 
see  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Bavon.  After  leaving 
Ghent  the  road  passes  through  a  beautiful 
country,  cultivated  like  a  garden.  The  Dutch 
passion  for  flowers  is  displayed  in  the  gardens 
around  the  cottages ;  even  every  vacant  foot  of 
ground  along  the  railway  ig  planted  with  roses 
and  dahlias.  At  Ghent,  the  morning  being  fair, 
we  took  seats  in  the  open  cars.  About  noon  it 
commenced  raining  and  our  situation  was  soon 
anything  but  comfortable.  My  cousin  had  for- 


7»  VIEWS   A- FOOT. 

tunately  a  waterproof  Indian  blanket  with  him, 
which  he  had  purchased  in  the  "  Far  West,"  and 
by  wrapping  this  around  all  three  of  us,  we  kept 
partly  dry.  I  was  much  amused  at  the  plight 
of  a  party  of  young  Englishmen,  who  were  in 
the  same  car;  one  of  them  held  a  little  parasol 
which  just  covered  his  hat,  and  sent  the  water 
in  streams  down  on  his  back  and  shoulders. 

"We  had  a  misty  view  of  Liege,  through  the 
torrents  of  rain,  and  then  dashed  away  into 
the  wild,  mountain  scenery  of  the  Meuse. 
Steep,  rocky  hills,  covered  with  pine  and 
crowned  with  ruined  towers,  hemmed  in  the 
winding  and  swollen  river,  and  the  wet,  cloudy 
sky  seemed  to  rest  like  a  canopy  on  their  sum- 
mits. Instead  of  threading  their  mazy  defiles, 
we  plunged  directly  into  the  mountain's  heart, 
flew  over  the  narrow  valley  on  lofty  and  light- 
sprung  arches,  and  went  again  into  the  dark- 
ness. At  Verviers,  our  baggage  was  weighed, 
examined  and  transferred,  with  ourselves,  to  a 
Prussian  train.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  dis- 
puting on  the  occasion.  A  lady,  who  had  a  dog 
in  a  large  willow  basket,  was  not  allowed  to  re- 
tain it,  nor  would  they  take  it  as  baggMi!<>. 
The  matter  was  finally  compromised  by  their 
sending  the  basket,  obliging  her  to  carry  the 
dog,  which  was  none  of  the  smallest,  in  her 
arms!  The  next  station  bore  the  sign  of  l!io 
black  eagle,  and  here  our  passports  v,  <>ro 
obliged  to  be  given  up.  Advancing  through 
long  ranges  of  wooded  hills,  we  saw  at  length, 
in  the  dull  twilight  of  a  rainy  day,  the  ^old 
kingly  city  of  Aix  la  Chapelle  on  a  plain  below 
us.  After  a  scene  at  the  custom-house,  where 
our  baggage  was  reclaimed  with  tickets  given 
at  Verviers,  we  drove  to  the  Hotel  du  Rlrin,  and 
while  wrarming  our  shivering  limbs  and  drying 
our  damp  garments,  felt  tempted  to  exclaim 
with  the  old  Italian  author :  "  0 1  holy  and  ini- 
raculous'taveru  1 " 


COLOGNE  CATHEDRA^  75 

The  Cathedral  with  its  lofty  Gothic  tower, 
was  built  by  tlie  emperor  Otho  in  the  tenth  cen- 
tury. It  seems  at  present  to  be  undergoing  re- 
pairs, for  a  large  scaffold  shut  out  the  dome. 
The  long  hall  was  dim  with  incense  smoke  as  we 
entered,  and  the  organ  sounded  through  the 
high  arches  with  an  effect  that  startled  me. 
The  windows  glowed  with  the  forms  of  kings 
and  saints,  and  the  dusty  and  mouldering 
shrines  which  rose  around  were  colored  with  the 
light  that  came  through.  The  music  pealed  out 
like  a  triumphal  march,  sinking  at  times  into  a 
mournful  strain,  as  if  it  celebrated  and  la- 
mented the  heroes  who  slept  below.  In  the 
stone  pavement  nearly  under  my  feet  was  a 
large  square  marble  slab,  with  words  "CAROLO 
MAOXO."  It  was  like  a  dream,  to  stand  there 
on  the  tomb  of  the  mighty  warrior,  with  the 
lofty  arches  of  the  Cathedral  above,  filled  with 
the  sound  of  the  divine  anthem.  I  mused 
above  his  ashes  till  the  music  ceased  and  then 
left  the  Cathedral,  that  nothing  might  break 
the  romantic  spell  associated  with  that  crumb- 
ling pile  and  tlie  dead  it  covered.  I  have  always 
revered  the  memory  of  Charlemagne.  He  lived 
in  a  stern  age,  but  he  was  in  mind  and  heart  a 
man,  and  like  Napoleon,  who  placed  the  iron 
crown  which  had  lain  with  him  centuries  in  the 
tomb,  upon  his  own  brow,  he  had  an  Alpine 
grandeur  of  mind,  which  the  Avorld  was  forced 
to  acknowledge. 

At  noon  we  took  the  chars-a-banc,  or  second- 
class  carriages,  for  fear  of  rain,  and  continued 
our  journey  over  a  plain  dotted  with  villages 
and  old  chateaux.  Two  or  three  miles  from  Co- 
logne we  saw  the  spires  of  the  different  churches, 
conspicuous  among  which  were  the  unfinished 
towers  of  the  Cathedral,  with  the  enormous 
crane  standing  as  it  did  when  they  left  off  build- 
ing, two  hundred  years  ago  or  more.  On  arriv- 
ing, we  drove  to  the  Bonn  railway,  where  find- 


74  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

ing  the  last  train  did  not  leave  for  four  hours, 
\ve  left  our  baggage  and  set  out  for  the  Cathe- 
(li-.-il.  Of  all  Gothic  buildings,  the  plan  of  this 
is  certainly  the  most  stupendous ;  even  ruin  as 
it  is,  it  cannot  fail  to  excite  surprise  and  admi- 
ration. The  King  of  Prussia  has  undertaken 
to  complete  it  according  to  the  original  plan, 
which  was  lately  found  in  the  possession  of  a 
poor  man,  of  whom  it  was  purchased  for  40,000 
florins,  but  he  has  not  yet  finished  repairing 
what  is  already  built.  The  legend  concerning 
this  plan  may  not  be  known  to  every  one.  It  is 
related  of  the  inventor  of  it.  that  in  despair  of 
finding  any  sufficiently  great,  he  was  walking 
one  day  by  the  river,  sketching  with  his  stick 
upon  the  sand,  when  he  finally  hit  upon  one 
which  pleased  him  so  much  that  he  exclaimed: 
"This  shall  be  the  plan!"  "I  will  show  you  a 
better  one  than  that!"  said  a  voice  suddenly 
behind  him,  and  a  certain  black  gentleman  who 
figures  in  all  German  legends  stood  by  him,  and 
pulled  from  his  pocket  a  roll  containing  the 
present  plan  of  the  Cathedral.  .The  architect, 
amazed  at  its  grandeur,  asked  an  explanation 
of  every  part.  As  he  knew  his  soul  was  to  be 
the  price  of  it,  he  occupied  himself  while  the 
devil  was  explaining,  in  committing  its  propor- 
tions carefully  to  memory.  Having  done  this, 
he  lemarked  that  it  did  not  please  him  and  he 
would  not  take  it.  The  devil,  seeing  through 
the  cheat,  exclaimed  in  his  rage:  "You  may 
build  your  Cathedral  according  to  this  plan, 
but  you  shall  never  finish  it !  "  This  prediction 
seems  likely  to  be  verified,  for  though  it  was 
commenced  in  1248,  and  built  for  250  years, 
only  the  choir  and  nave  and  one  tower  to  half 
its  original  height,  are  finished. 

~Ye  visited  the  chapel  of  the  eleven  thousand 
virgins,  the  walls  of  which  are  full  of  curious 
grated  cells,  containing  their  bones,  and  then 
threaded  the  narrow  streets  of  Cologne,  which 


THE  RHINE.  76 

are  quite   dirty  enough  to  justify  Coleridge's 
lines : 

"The  river  Rhine,  it  is  well  known 
Doth  wash  the  city  of  Cologne  ; 
But  tell  me  nymphs,  what  power  divine 
Shall  henceforth  wash  the  river  Rhine  ! " 


CHAPTER  Yin. 

THE    RHINE    TO    HEIDELBERG. 

HEIDELBERG,  August  30. 

Here  at  last !  and  a  most  glorious  place  it  is. 
This  is  our  first  morning  in  our  new  rooms,  and 
the  sun  streams  warmly  in  the  eastern  win- 
dows, as  I  write,  while  the  old  castle  rises 
through  the  blue  vapor  on  the  side  of  the 
Kaiser-stuhl.  The  Neckar  rushes  on  below ;  and 
the  Odenwald,  before  me,  rejoices  with  its  vino- 
yards  in  the  morning  light.  The  bells  of  the  old 
chapel  near  us  are  sounding  most  musically, 
and  a  confused  sound  of  voices  and  the  rolling 
of  vehicles  comes  up  from  the  street.  It  is  a 
place  to  live  in! 

I  must  go  back  five  or  six  days  and' take  up 
the  record  of  our  journeyings  at  Bonn.  We  had 
been  looking  over  Murray's  infallible  "Hand- 
book," and  observed  that  he  recommended  the 
"Star"  hotel  in  that  city,  as  "the  most  mod- 
erate in  its  prices  of  any  on  the  Rhine; "  so  when 
the  train  from  Cologne  arrived  and  we  were  sur- 
rounded, in  the  darkness  and  confusion,  by  por- 
ters and  valets,  I  sung  out:  "Hotel  do  TEtoile 
d'or!"  our  baggage  and  ourselves  were  trans- 
ferred 1o  a  stylish  omnibus,  and  in  five  minutes 
we  stopped  under  a  brilliantly-lighted  archway, 
where  Mr.  Joseph  Schmidt  received  us  "\\ith  the 


78  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

usual  number  of  smiles  and  bows  bestowed  upon 
untitled  guests.  \Ve  were  furnished  with  neat 
rooms  in  the  summit  of  the  house,  and  then  de- 
scended to  the  salle  a  manger.  I  found  a  folded 
note  by  my  plate,  which  I  opened — it  contained 
an  engraving  of  the  front  of  the  hotel,  a  plan  of 
the  city  and  catalogue  of  its  lions,  together  with 
a  list  of  the  titled  personages  who  have,  from 
time  to  time,  honored  the  "Golden  Star"  with 
their  custom.  Among  this  number  were  "  Their 
Royal  Highnesses  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of 
Cambridge,  Prince  Albert,"  etc.  Had  it  not 
been  for  fatigue,  I  should  have  spent  an  uneasy 
night,  thinking  of  the  heavy  bill  which  was  to 
be  presented  on  the  morrow.  We  escaped,  how- 
ever, for  seven  francs  apiece,  three  of  which  were 
undoubtedly  for  the  honor  of  breathing  an  aris- 
tocratic atmosphere. 

I  was  glad  when  we  were  really  in  motion  on 
the  swift  Rhine,  the  next  morning,  and  nearing 
the  chain  of  mountains  that  rose  up  before  us. 
We  passed  Godesberg  on  the  right,  while  on  our 
left  was  the  group  of  the  seven  mountains  which 
extend  back  from  the  Drachenfels  to  the  Wolk- 
enberg,  or  Castle  of  the  Clouds.  Here  we  begin 
to  enter  the  enchanted  land.  The  Rhine  sweeps 
around  the  foot  of  the  Drachenfels,  while  oppo- 
site the  precipitous  rock  of  Rolandseck,  crowned 
with  the  castle  of  the  faithful  knight,  looks 
down  upon  the  beautiful  Islands  of  Nonnen- 
werth,the  white  walls  of  the  convent  still  gleam- 
ing through  the  trees,  as  they  did  when  the  war- 
rior's weary  eyes  looked  upon  them  for  the  last 
time.  I  shall  never  forget  the  enthusiasm  with 
which  I  saw  this  scene  in  the  bright,  warm  sun- 
light, the  rough  crags  softened  in  the  haze  which 
filled  the  atmosphere,  and  the  wild  mountains 
springing  up  in  the  midst  of  vineyards,  and 
crowned  with  crumbling  towers,  filled  with  the 
memories  of  a  thousand  years. 

After  passing  Andernach,  we  saw  in  the  dis- 


MOUNTAINS  OF  THE  MOSELLE.  77 

tance  the  highlands  of  the  middle  Rhine,  whicK 
rise  above  Coblentz,  guarding  the,  entrance  to 
its  wild  scenery,  and  the  mountains  of  the  Mo- 
selle. They  parted  as  we  approached ;  from  the 
foot  shot  up  the  spires  of  Coblentz,  and  the  bat- 
tlements of  Ehrenbreitstein  crowning  the  mount- 
ain opposite,  grew  larger  and  broader.  The 
air  was  slightly  hazy,  and  the  clouds  seemed 
laboring  among  the  distant  mountains  to  raise 
a  storm.  As  we  came  opposite  the  mouth  of 
the  Moselle  and  under  the  shadow  of  the  mighty 
fortress,  I  gazed  up  with  awe  at  its  massive 
walls.  Apart  from  its  magnitude  and  almost 
impregnable  situation  on  a  perpendicular  rock, 
it  is  filled  with  the  recollections  of  history  and 
hallowed  by  the  voice  of  poetry.  The  scene  went 
past  like  a  panorama,  the  bridge  of  boats 
opened,  the  city  glided  behind  us  and  we  entered 
the  highland  again. 

Above  Coblentz  almost  every  mountain  has  a 
ruin  and  a  legend.  One  feels  everywhere  the 
spirit  of  the  past,  and  its  stirring  recollections 
come  back  upon  the  mind  with  irresistible  force. 
I  sat  upon  the  deck  the  whole  afternoon,  as 
mountains,  towns  and  castles  passed  by  on 
either  side,  watching  them  with  a  feeling  of  the 
most  enthusiastic  enjoyment.  Every  place  was 
familiar  to  me  in  memory,  and  they  seemed  like 
friends  I  had  long  communed  with  in  spirit  and 
now  met  face  to  face.  The  English  tourists, 
with  whom  the  deck  was  covered,  seemed  inter- 
ested too,  but  in  a  different  manner.  With  Mur- 
ray's Handbook  open  in  their  hands,  they  sat 
and  read  about  the  very  towns  and  towers  they 
were  passing,  scarcely  lifting  their  eyes  to  the 
real  scenes,  except  now  and  then,  to  observe  that 
it  was  "very  nice." 

As  we  passed  Boppart,  I  sought  out  the  Inn 
of  the  "Star,"  mentioned  in  "Hyperion;"  there 
was  a  maiden  sitting  on  the  steps  who  might 
have  been  Paul  Flemming's  fair  boat-woman. 


f3  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

The  clouds  which  had  here  gathered  among  the 
hills,  now  came  over  tin-  river,  and  the  rain 
cleared  the  deck  of  its  crowd  of  admiring  tour- 
ists. As  we:  were  approaching  Lurlei  Berg,  I  did 
not  go  below;  and  so  enjoyed  some  of  the  finest 
scenery  on  the  Rhine  alone.  The  mountains 
approach  each  other  at  this  point,  and  the  Lur- 
lei  Rock  rises  up  for  six  hundred  feet  from  the 
water.  This  is  the  haunt  of  the  water  nymph, 
Lurlei,  whose  song  charmed  the  ear  of  the  boat- 
man while  his  barque  was  dashed  to  pieces  on 
the  rocks  below.  It  is  also  celebrated  for  its  n-- 
markable  echo.  As  we  passed  between  the  rocks. 
a  guard,  who  has  a  little  house  built  on  the 
road-side,  blew  a  flourish  on  his  bugle,  which 
was  instantly  answered  by  a  blast  from  the 
rocky  battlements  of  Lurlei.  The  German  stu- 
dents have  a  witty  trick  with  this  echo:  they 
call  out,  "Who  is  the  Burgomaster  of  Oberwe- 
sel?"  a  town  just  above.  The  echo  answers  with 
the  last  syllable  "Esel!"  which  is  the  German 
for  fiss. 

The  sun  came  out  of  the  cloud  as  we  passed 
Oberwesel,  with  its  tall  round  tower,  and  the 
light  shining  through  the  ruined  arches  of 
Schonberg  castle,  made  broad  bars  of  light  and 
shade  in  the  still  misty  air.  A  rainbow  sprang 
up  out  of  the  Rhine,  and  la}r  brightly  on  the 
mountain  side,  coloring  vineyard  and  crag,  in 
the  most  singular  beauty,  while  its  second  reflec- 
tion faintly  arched  like  a  glory  above  the  liiuh 
summits.  In  the  bed  of  the  river  were  the  seven 
countesses  of  Schonberg,  turned  into  seven 
rocks  for  their  cruelty  and  hard-heartedness  to- 
wards the  knights  whom  their  beauty  had  made 
captive.  In  front,  at  a  little  distance  was  the 
castle  of  Pfalz,  in  the  middle  of  the  river,  and 
from  the  heights  above  Caub  frowned  the  crum- 
bling citadel  of  Guteufels.  Imagine  all  this,  and 
tell  me  if  it  is  not  a  picture  whose  memory 
should  last  a  life-time ! 


FRANKFORT.  78 

We  came  at  last  to  Bingen,  the  southern  gate 
of  the  Highland*}.  Here,  on  an  island  in  the 
middle  of  tne_si)ream,  is  the  old  Mouse  tower 
where  Bishop  liacto  of  Mayence  was  eaten  up  by 
the  rats  for  his  wicked  deeds.  Passing  Rude- 
Bheim  and  Geisjenlieim,  celebrated  for  th?ir 
wines,  at  sunset,  we  watched  the  varied  shore  in 
the  growing  dailkness,  till  like  a  line  of  stars 
across  the  water,  we  saw  before  us  the  bridge  of 
Mayence. 

The  next  morning  I  parted  from  my  Mends, 
who  were  going  to  Heidelberg  by  way  of  Mann- 
heim, and  set  out  alone  for  Frankfort.  The 
cars  passed  through  Hochheim,  whose  wines  are 
celebrated  all  over  the  world;  there  is  little  to 
interest  the  traveller  till  he  arrives  at  Frankfort, 
whose  spires  are  seen  rising  from  groves  of  trees 
as  he  approaches.  I  left  the  cars,  unchallenged 
for  my  passport,  greatly  to  my  surprise,  as  it 
had  cost  me  a  long  walk  and  five  shillings  in 
London,  to  get  the  signature  of  the  Frankfort 
Consul.  I  learned  afterwards  it  was  not  at  all 
necessary.  Before  leaving  America,  N.  P.  Willis 
had  kindly  given  me  a  letter  to  his  brother, 
Richard  S.  Willis,  who  is  now  cultivating  a  nat- 
urally fine  taste  for  music  in  Frankfort,  and  my 
first  care  was  to  find  the  American  Consul  in  or- 
der to  learn  his  residence.  I  discovered  at  last, 
from  a  gentleman  who  spoke  a  little  French, 
that  the  Consul's  office  was  in  the  street  Bellevue 
which  street  I  not  only  looked  for  through  the 
city,  but  crossed  over  the  bridge  to  the  suburb 
of  Sachsenhausen,  and  traversed  its  narrow, 
dirty  alleys  three  several  times,  but  in  vain.  I 
was  abot.t  giving  up  the  search,  when  I  stum- 
bled upon  the  office  accidentally.  The  name  of 
the  street  had  been  given  to  me  in  French  and 
very  naturally  it  was  not  to  be  found.  Willis 
received  me  very  kindly  and  introduced  me  to 
the  amiable  German  family  with  whom  he 
resides. 


SO  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

After  spending  a  delightful  evening;  with  my 
newly-found  friends,  I  left  tin  n.-xt  morning  in  the 
omnibus  for  Heidelberg.  We  passed  through 
Sachsenhausen  and  ascended  a  long  hill  to  the 
watch-tower,  whence  there  is  a  beautiful  view  of 
the  Main  valley.  Four  hours'  driving  over  the 
monotonous  plain,  brought  me  to  Darmstadt. 
The  city  wore  a  gay  look,  left  by  the  recent 
fetes.  The  monument  of  the  old  Duke  Ludwig 
had  just  been  erected  in  the  centre  of  the  great 
square,  and  the  festival  attendant  upon  the  un- 
veiling of  it,  which  lasted  three  days,  had  just 
closed.  The  city  wa,s  hung  with  garlands,  and 
the  square  filled  with  the  pavilions  of  the  royal 
family  and  the  musicians,  of  whom  there  were  a 
thousand  present,  while  everywhere  were  seen 
red  and  white  flags — the  colors  of  Darmstadt. 
We  met  wagons  decorated  with  garlands,  full  of 
pleasant  girls,  in  the  odd  dress  which  they  have 
worn  for  three  hundred  years. 

After  leaving  Darmstadt  we  entered  upon  the 
Bergstrasse,  or  Mountain-way,  leading  along 
the  foot  of  the  mountain  chain  which  extends  all 
the  way  to  Heidelberg  on  the  left,  while  on  1  h$ 
right  stretches  far  away  the  Rhine-plain,  across 
which  we  saw  the  dim  outline  of  the  Donners- 
berg,  in  France.  The  hills  are  crowned  with 
castles  and  their  sides  loaded  with  vines ;  along 
the  road  the  rich  green  foliage  of  the  walnut 
trees  arched  and  nearly  met  above  us.  The  sun 
shone  warm  and  bright,  and  every  body 
appeared  busy  and  contented  and  happy.  All 
we  met  had  smiling  countenances.  In  some 
places  we  saw  whole  families  sitting  under  the 
trees  shelling  the  nuts  they  had  beaten  down, 
while  others  were  returning  from  the  vineyards, 
laden  with  baskets  of  purple  and  white  grapes. 
The  scene  seemed  to  realize  all  I  had  read  of  the 
happiness  of  the  German  peasantry,  and  the 
pastoral  beauty  of  the  German  plains. 

With  the  passengers  in  the  omnibus  I  could 


ARRIVAL  A  T  HEIDELBERG.  81 

hold  little  conversation.  One,  who  knew  about 
as  much  French  as  I  did,  asked  me  where  I  came 
from,  and  I  shall  not  soon  forget  his  expression 
of  incredulity,  as  I  mentioned  America.  "  Why," 
said  he,  "you  are  white — the  Americans  are  all 
black!" 

We  passed  the  ruined  castles  of  Auerback  and 
Starkenburg,  and  Burg  Windeck,  on  the  summit 
of  a  mountain  near  Weinheim,  formerly  one  of 
the  royal  residences  of  Charlemagne,  and  finally 
came  to  the  Heiligenberg  or  Holy  Mountain, 
guarding  the  entrance  into  the  Odenwald  by  the 
valley  of  the  Neckar.  As  we  wound  around  its 
base  to  the  river,  the  Kaiserstuhl  rose  before  us, 
with  the  mighty  castle  hanging  upon  its  side 
and  Heidelberg  at  its  feet,  it  was  a  most  strik- 
ingly beautiful  scene,  and  for  a  moment  I  felt 
inclined  to  assent  to  the  remark  of  my  bad- 
French  acquaintance — "America  is  not  beautiful 
—Heidelberg  is  beautiful ! "  The  sun  had  just 
set  as  we  turned  the  corner  of  the  Holy  Mount- 
ain and  drove  up  the  bank  of  the  Neckar;  all 
the  chimes  of  Heidelberg  began  suddenly  to  ring 
and  a  cannon  by  the  river-side  was  fired  off 
every  minute — the  sound  echoing  five  times 
distinctly  from  mountain  back  to  mountain, 
and  finally  crashing  far  off,  along  the  distant 
hills  of  the  Odenwald.  It  was  the  birthday  of 
the  Grand  Duke  of  Baden,  and  these  rejoicing! 
were  for  the  closing  fete. 


12  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

SCENES  IN  AND  AROUND  HEIDELBERG. 


SO.—  There  is  so  much  to  be  seen  around 
this  beautiful  place,  that  I  scarcely  know  where 
to  begin  a  description  of  it.  I  have  been  wand- 
ering among  the  wild  paths  that  lead  up  and 
down  the  mountain  side,  or  away  into  the  for- 
ests and  lonely  meadows  in  the  lap  of  the  Oden- 
wald.  My  mind  is  filled  with  images  of  the 
romantic  German  scenery,  whose  real  beauty  is 
beginning  to  displace  the  imaginary  picture 
which  I  had  painted  with  the  enthusiastic  words 
of  Howitt.  I  seem  to  stand  now  upon  the  Kai- 
ser-stuhl,  which  rises  above  Heidelberg,  with 
that  magnificent  landscape  around  me,  from  the 
Black  Forest  and  Strasburg  to  Mainz,  and  from 
the  Vosges  in  France  to  the  hills  of  Spessart  in 
Bavaria.  What  a  glorious  panorama!  and  not 
less  rich  in  associations  than  in  its  natural 
beauty.  Below  me  had  moved  the  barbarian 
hordes  of  old,  the  triumphant  followers  of  Ar- 
miiiius,  and  the  Cohorts  of  Rome;  and  later,  full 
many  a  warlike  host  bearing  the  banners  of  the 
red  cross  to  the  Holy  Land,  —  many  a  knight  re- 
turning with  his  vassals  from  the  field,  to  lay  at 
the  feet  of  his  lady-love  the  scarf  he  had  worn  in 
a  hundred  battles  and  claim  the  reward  of  his 
constancy  and  devotion.  But  brighter  spirits 
had  also  toiled  below.  That  plain  had  witnessed 
the  presence  of  Luther,  and  a  host  who  strove 
with  him  to  free  the  world  from  the  chains  of  a 
corrupt  and  oppressive  religion.  There  had  also 
trodden  the  master  spirits  of  German  song  —  the 
giant  twain,  with  their  scarcely  less  harmonious 
brethren:  they,  too,  had  gathered  inspiration 


WOLFSBR  UNNE  AT.  83 

from  those  scenes — more  fervent  worship  of  na- 
ture and  a  deeper  love  for  their  beautiful  father- 
laud!  Oh!  what  waves  of  crime  and  bloodshed 
have  swept  like  the  waves  of  a  deluge  down  the 
valley  of  the  Rhine!  War  has  laid  his  mailed 
hand  on  those  desolate  towers  and  ruthlessly 
torn  down  what  time  has  spared,  yet  he  could 
not  mar  the  beauty  of  the  shore,  nor  could  Time 
himself  hurl  down  the  mountains  that  guard  it. 
And  what  if  I  feel  a  new  inspiration  on  behold- 
ing the  scene?  Now  that  those  ages  have  swept 
by,  like  the  red  waves  of  a  tide  of  blood,  we  see 
not  the  darkened  earth,  but  the  golden  sands 
which  the  flood  has  left  behind.  Besides,  I  have 
come  from  a  new  world,  where  the  spirit  of  man 
is  untrammded  by  the  mouldering  shackles  of 
the  past,  but  in  its  youthful  and  joyous  freedom, 
goes  on  to  make  itself  a  noble  memory  for  the 
ages  that  are  to  come ! 

Then  there  is  the  Wolfsbrunnen,  which  one 
reaches  by  a  beautiful  walk  up  the  bank  of  the 
Xeckar,  to  a  quiet  dell  in  the  side  of  the  mount- 
ain. Through  this  the  roads  lead  up  by  rustic 
mills,  always  in  motion,  and  orchards  laden 
with  ripening  fruit,  to  the  commencement  of  the 
forest,  where  a  quaint  stone  fountain  stands, 
commemorating  the  abode  of  a  sorceress  of  the 
olden  time,  who  was  torn  in  pieces  by  a  wolf. 
There  is  a  handsome  rustic  inn  here,  where 
every  Sunday  afternoon  a  band  plays  in  the 
portico,  while  hundreds  of  people  are  scattered 
around  in  the  cool  shadow  of  the  trees,  or  feed- 
ing the  splendid  trout  in  the  basin  formed  by 
the  little  stream.  They  generally  return  to  the 
city  by  another  walk  leading  along  the  mount- 
ain side,  to  the  eastern  terrace  of  the  caslle, 
where  they  have  fine  views  of  the  great  Rhine 
plain,  terminated  by  the  Alsatian  hills,  stretch- 
ing along  the  western  horizon  like  the  long 
crested  swells  on  the,  ocean.  We  can  even  see 
these  from  the  windows  of  our  room  on  the 


84  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

bank  of  the  Neckar ;  and  I  often  look  with  in- 
terest on  one  sharp  peak,  for  on  its  side  stands 
the  Castle  of  Trifels,  where  Coeur  de  Lion  was  im- 
prisoned by  the  Duke  of  Austria,  and  where 
Blondel,  his  faithful  minstrel,  sang  the  1m llml 
which  discovered  the  retreat  of  the  noble  cap- 
tive. 

The  people  of  Heidelberg  are  rich  in  places  of 
pleasure  and  amusement.  From  the  Carl  Platz, 
an  open  square  at  the  upper  end  of  the  city,  two 
paths  lead  directly  up  to  the  castle.  P>y  the  first 
walk  we  ascend  a  flight  of  steps  to  the  western 
gate,  passing  through  which,  we  enter  a  delight- 
mi  garden,  bet  ween  the  outer  walls  of  the  Castle, 
and  the  huge  moat  which  surrounds  it.  Great 
linden,  oak  and  beach  trees  shadow  the  walk, 
and  in  secluded  nooks,  little  mountain  streams 
spring  from  the  side  of  the  wall  into  stone 
basins.  There  is  a  tower  over  the  moat  on  the 
south  side,  next  the  mountain,  where  the  port- 
cullis still  hangs  with  its  sharp  teeth  as  it  was 
last  drawn  up;  on  each  side  stand  two  giim 
knights  guarding  the  entrance.  In  one  of  the 
wooded  walks  is  an  old  tree  brought  from 
America  in  the  year  1618.  It  is  of  the  kind 
called  arbor  vitas,  and  uncommonly  tall  end 
slender  for  one  of  this  species;  y<  t  it  docs  not 
seem  to  thrive  well  in  a  foreign  soil.  I  noticed 
that  persons  had  cut  many  slips  off  the  lower 
branches,  and  I  would  have  been  tempted  to  do 
the  same  myself  if  there  had  been  any  I  could 
reach.  In  the  curve  of  the  mountain  is  a  hand- 
some pavilion,  surrounded  with  beds  of  flowers 
and  fountains;  here  all  classes  meet  together  in 
the  afternoon  to  sit  with  their  refir<  shim  nts  in 
the  shade,  while  frequently  a  fine  band  of  i; 
gives  them  their  invariable  recreation.  All  1  his, 
with  the  scenery  around  them,  leaves  nothing 
unfinished  to  their  present  enjoyment.  The 
Germans  enjoy  life  under  all  circumstances,  and 
in  this  way  they  make  themselves  much  hap- 


THE  CASTLE.  85 

pier  than  we,  who  have  far  greater  means  of  be- 
ing so. 

At  the  end  of  the  terrace  built  for  the  princess 
Elizabeth,  of  England,  is  one  of  the  round  tow- 
ers, which  was  split  in  twain  by  the  French. 
Half  has  fallen  entirely  away,  and  the  other 
semi-circular  shell  which  joins  the  terrace  and 
part  of  the  Castle  buildings,  clings  firmly  to- 
gether, although  part  of  its  foundation  is  gone, 
so  that  its  outer  ends  actually  hang  in  the  air. 
Some  idea  of  the  strength  of  the  castle  may  be 
obtained  when  I  state  that  the  walls  of  this 
tower  are  twenty-two  feet  thick,  and  that  a 
staircase  has  been  made  through  them  to  the 
top,  where  one  can  sit  under  the  lindens  groAV- 
ing  upon  it,  or  look  down  from  the  end  on  the 
city  below  with  the  pleasant  consciousness  that 
the  great  mass  upon  which  he  stands  is  only 
prevented  from  crashing  down  with  him  by  the 
solidity  of  its  masonry.  On  one  side,  joining 
the  garden,  the  statue  of  the  Archduke  Louis, 
in  his  breastplate  and  flowing  beard,  looks  out 
from  among  the  ivy. 

There  is  little  to  be  seen  about  the  Castle  ex- 
cept tho  walls  themselves.  The  guide  conducted 
us  through  passages,  in  which  were  heaped 
iiui-iv  of  tho  enormous  cannon  balls  which  it 
had  leceived  in  sieges,  to  some  chambers  in  the 
foiimUilioii.  This  was  the  oldest  part  of  the 
Castle,  built  in  the  thirteenth  century.  Wo  also 
visited  the  chapel,  which  is  in  a  tollable  state 
of  preservation.  A  kind  of  narrow  bridge  crosses 
it,  over  which  we  walked,  looking  down  oil  the 
empty  pulpit  and  deserted  shrines.  We  then 
went  into  the  cellar  to  see  the  celebrated  Tun. 
In  a  large  vault  are  kept  several  enormous 
hogsheads,  one  of  which  is  three  hundred  years 
old,  but  they  are  nothing  in  comparison  with  the 
tun,  which  itself  fills  a  whole  vault.  It  is  as  high 
as  a  common  two-story  house;  on  the  top  is  a 
platform  upon  which  the  people  used  to 


8«  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

after  it  was  filled,  to  which  one  ascends  by  two 
flights  of  steps.  I  forgot  exactly  how  many 
casks  it  holds,  but  I  believe  eight  hundred.  It 
has  been  empty  for  fifty  years. 

We  are  very  pleasantly  situated  here.  My 
friends,  who  arrived  a  day  before  me,  hired  three 
rooms  (with  the  assistance  of  a  courier)  in  a 
large  house  on  the  banks  of  the  Neckar.  \V<: 
pay  for  them,  with  attendance,  thirty  florins — 
about  twelve  dollars— a  month,  and  Frau  Dr. 
Grosch,  our  polite  and  talkative  landlady,  gives 
us  a  student's  breakfast — coffee  and  biscuit — for 
about  seven  cents  apiece.  We  are  often  much 
am  used  to  hear  her  endeavors  to  make  us  under- 
stand. As  if  to  convey  her  meaning  plainer,  she 
raises  both  thumbs  and  forefingers  to  her  mouth 
and  pulls  out  the  words  like  a  long  string ;  her 
tongue  goes  so  fast  that  it  keeps  my  mind 
always  on  a  painful  stretch  to  comprehend  an 

idea  here  and  there.  Dr.  S ,  from  whom  we 

take  lessons  in  German,  has  kindly  consented  to 
our  dining  with  his  family  for  the  sake  of  prac- 
tice in  speaking.  We  have  taken  several  long 
walks  with  them  along  the  banks  of  the  Neckar, 
but  I  should  be  puzzled  to  repeat  any  of  the  conj 
versations  that  took  place.  The  language,  how- 
ever, is  fast  growing  more  familiar,  since  women 
are  the  principal  teachers. 

Opposite  my  window  rises  the  Heiligenberg, 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Neckar.  The  lower  part 
of  it  is  rich  with  vineyards,  and  many  cottages 
stand  embosomed  in  shrubbery  among  them. 
Sometimes  we  see  groups  of  maidens  standing 
under  the  grape  arbors,  and  every  morning  the 
peasant  women  go  toiling  up  the  steep  paths 
with  baskets  on  their  heads,  to  labor  among  the 
vines.  On  the  Neckar  below  us,  the  fishermen 
glide  about  in  their  boats,  sink  their  square  nets 
fastened  to  a  long  pole,  and  haul  them  up  with 
the  glittering  fish,  of  which  the  stream  is  full. 
I  often  lean  out  of  the  window  late  at  night, 


LIFE  IN  HEIDELBERG.  87 

when  the  mountains  above  are  wrapped  in 
dusky  obscurity,  and  listen  to  the  low,  musical 
ripple  of  the  river.  It  tells  to  my  excited  fancy 
a  knightly  legend  of  the  old  German  time.  Then 
comes  the  bell,  rung  for  closing  the  inns,  break- 
ing the  spell  with  its  deep  clang,  which  vibrates 
far  away  on  the  night  air,  till  it  has  roused  all 
the  echoes  of  the  Odenwald.  I  then  shut  the 
window,  turn  into  the  narrow  box  which  the 
Germans  '.-all  a  bed,  and  in  a  few  minutes  am 
wandering  in  America.  Half  way  up  the  Heili- 
genberg  runs  a  beautiful  walk,  dividing  the  vine- 
yards from  the  forest  above.  Tin's  is  called  the 
Philosopher's  Way,  because  it  was  the  favorite 
ramble  of  the  old  Professors  of  the  University. 
It  can  be  reached  by  a  toilsome,  winding  path 
among  the  vines,  called  the  Snake-way,  and 
when  one  has  ascended  to  it  he  is  well  rewarded 
by  the  lovely  view.  In  the  evening,  when  the 
sun  has  got  behind  the  mountain,  it  is  delight- 
ful to  sit  on  the  stone  steps  and  watch  the 
golden  light  creeping  up  the  side  oftheKaiser- 
stuhl,  till  at  last  twilight  begins  to  darken  in 
the  valley  and  a  mantle  of  mist  gathers  above 
the  Xeckar. 

AVe  ascended  the  mountain  a,  few  days  ago. 
There  is  a  path  which  leads  up  through  the  for- 
est, but  we  took  the  shortest  way,  directly  up 
the  side,  though  it  was  at  an  angle  of  nearly 
fifty  degrees.  It  was  hard  enough  work,  scram- 
bling through  the  I  Lick  broom  and  heather,  and 
over  stumps  and  .stones.  In  one  of  the  stone- 
heaps,  I  dislodged  a  large  orange-colored  sala- 
mander, seven  or  eight  inches  long.  They  are 
sometimes  found  on  these  mountains,  as  well  as 
a  very  large  kind  oi  lizard,  called  the  eidechse, 
which  the  Germans  say  is  perfectly  harmless, 
and  if  one  whistles  or  plays  a  pipe,  will  come  and 
play  around  him.  The  view  from  the  top 
reminded  me  of  that  from  Catskill  Mountain 
House,  but  is  on  a  smaller  scale.  The  mount- 


»6  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

ains  stretch  off  sideways,  confining  the  view  to 
but  half  the  horizon,  and  in  the  middle  of  the 
picture  the  Hudson  is  well  represented  by  the 
lengthened  windings  of  the  "abounding  Rhine." 
Nestled  at  the  base  below  us,  was  the  little  vil- 
lage of  Handsdmhheim,  one  of  the  oldest  in  this 
part  of  Germany.  The  castle  of  its  former  lords 
has  nearly  all  fallen  down,  but  the  massive 
solidity  of  the  walls  which  yet  stand,  proves  its 
antiquity.  A  few  years  ago,  a  part  of  the  outer 
walls  which  was  remarked  to  have  a  hollow 
sound,  was  taken  down,  when  there  fell  from  a 
deep  niche  built  therein,  a  skeleton,  clad  in  a  suit 
of  the  old  German  armor.  We  followed  a  road 
through  the  woods  to  the  peak  on  which  stand 
the  ruins  of  St.  Michael's  chapel,  which  was  built 
in  the  tenth  century  and  inhabited  for  a  long 
time  by  a  sect  of  white  monks.  There  is  now 
but  a  single  tower  remaining,  and  all  around  is 
grown  over  with  tall  bushes  and  weeds.  It  had 
a  wild  and  romantic  look,  and  I  sat  on  a  rock 
and  sketched  at  it,  till  it  grew  dark,  when  we  got 
down  the  mountain  the  best  way  we  could. 

We  lately  visited  the  great  University  Library. 
You  walk  through  one  hall  after  another,  filled 
with  books  of  all  kinds,  from  the  monkish 
manuscript  of  the  middle  ages,  to  the  most  ele- 
gant print  of  the  present  day.  There  is  some- 
thing to  me  more  impressive  in  a  library  like 
this  than  a  solemn  Cathedral.  I  think  involun- 
tarily of  the  hundreds  of  mighty  spirits  who 
speak  from  these  three  hundred  thousand  vol- 
umes—of the  toils  and  privations  with  which 
genius  has  ever  struggled,  and  of  hi 8  glorious 
reward.  As  in  a  church,  one  feels  as  it  were,  the 
presence  of  God ;  not  because  the  place  has  been 
hallowed  by  his  worship,  but  because  all  around 
stand  the  inspirations  of  his  spirit,  breathed 
through  the  mind  of  genius,  to  men.  And  if 
the  mortal  remains  of  saints  and  heroes  do  not 
repose  within  its  walls,  the  great  and  good  of 


A  PEASANT  WEDDING.  8ft 

the  whole  earth  are  there,  speaking  their  coun- 
sels to  the  searcher  for  truth,  with  voices  whose 
last  reverberation  will  die  away  only  when  the 
globe  falls  into  ruin. 

A  few  nights  ago  there  was  a  wedding  of 
peasants  across  the  river.  In  order  to  celebrate 
it  particularly,  the  guests  went  to  the  house 
where  it  was  given,  by  torchlight.  The  night 
was  quite  dark,  and  the  bright  red  torches 
glowed  on  the  surface  of  the  Neckar,  as  the  two 
couriers  galloped  along  the  banks  to  the  bride- 
groom's house.  Here,  after  much  shouting  and 
confusion,  the  procession  was  arranged,  the  two 
riders  started  back  again  with  their  torches, 
and  the  wagons  containing  the  guests  followed 
after  with  their  flickering  lights  glancing  on  the 
water,  till  they  disappeared  around  the  foot  of 
the  mountain.  The  choosing  of  Conscripts  also 
took  place  lately.  The  law  requires  one  person 
out  of  every  hundred  to  become  a  soldier,  and 
.this,  in  the  city  of  Heidelberg,  amounts  to 
nearly  150.  It  was  a  sad  spectacle.  The  young 
men,  or  rather  boys,  who  were  chosen,  went 
about  the  city  with  cockades  fastened  on  their 
hats,  shouting"  and  singing,  many  of  them  quite 
intoxicated.  I  could  not  help  pitying  them  be- 
cause of  the  dismal,  mechanical  life  they  are 
doomed  to  follow.  Many  were  rough,  ignorant 
peasants,  to  whom  nearly  any  kind  of  life  would 
be  agreeable;  but  there  were  some  whose  coun- 
tenances spoke  otherwise,  and  I  thought  invol- 
iintarily,  that  their  drunken  gaiety  was  only 
affected  to  conceal  their  real  feelings  with  regard 
to  the  lot  which  had  fallen  upon  them. 

Wo  are  gradually  becoming  accustomed  to 
the  German  style  of  living,  which  is  very  differ- 
ent from  our  own.  Their  cookery  is  new  to  us, 
but  is,  nevertheless,  good.  We  have  every  day 
a  different  kind  of  soup,  so  I  have  supposed 
they  keep  a  regular  list  of  three  hundred  and 
sixty-five,  one  for  every  day  in  the  year !  Then 


90  JY/"HV> 

we  have  potatoes  "dono  up  "in  oil  and  vinecrar. 
veal  iiavoivd  \vitli  orang  •  |.  ••!.  barley  pudding, 
and  all  sorts  of  pancu.a  s.  boiled  artichokes, 
and  alwaxs  rye  bn  ad,  iu  loaves  a  yard  long! 
Nevertheless,  we  thrive  OH  suHi  diet,  and  I  have 
rarelv  enjoyed  more  sound  and  refreshing  si  <•]> 
than  in  their  narrow  and  coifin-like  beds,  un~ 
comfortable  ;..>  ihev  seem.  Many  of  the  (Je,r- 
inan  customs  ore  amusing.  We  never  see  oxen 
working  here,  but  always  cows,  sometimes  a 
sin;_'l:>  0110  in  a  cai-t,and  sometimes  two  fastened 
together  by  a  yoke  across  their  horns.  The 
women  labor  constantly  in  the  fields;  from  our 
window  we  can  hear  the  nut-brown  maidens 
singing  their  cheerful  songs  among  the  vine- 
yards on  the  mountain  side.  Their  costume, 
too,  is  odd  enough.  Below  the  tight-fitting 
vest  they  wear  such  a  number  of  short  skirts, 
one  above  another,  that  it  reminds  one  of  an 
animated  hogshead,  with  a  head  and  shoulders 
starting  out  from  the  top.  I  have  heard  it 
gravely  asserted  that  the  wealth  of  a  German 
damsel  maybe  known  by  counting  the  number 
of  her  "kirtles."  An  acquaintance  of  mine  re- 
marked, that  it  would  be  an  excellent  costume 
for  falling  down  a  precipice ! 

We  have  just  returned  from  a  second  visit  to 
Frankfort,  where  the  great  annual  fair  filled  the 
streets  with  noise  and  bustle.  On  our  way 
back,  we  stopped  at  the  village  of  Zwingenberg, 
which 'lies  at  the  foot  of  the  Melibochus,  for  the 
purpose  of  visiting  some  of  the  scenery  of  the 
Odenwald.  Passing  the  night  at  the  inn  there, 
we  slept  with  one  bed  under  and  two  above,  and 
start '-d  early  iu  the  morning  to  climb  up  the 
side  of  the  Melibochus.  Alter  a  long  walk- 
through the  forests,  which  were  beginning  to 
change  their  summer  foliage  for  a  brighter  gar- 
ment, we  reached  tlie  summit  and  ascended  the 
stone  tower  which  stands  upon  it.  This  view, 
gives  one  a  better  idea  of  the  Odenwald,  than 


SCENERT  OF  THE  ODENWALD.  91 

that  from  the  Kaiser-stuhl  at  Heidelberg.  In 
the  soft  autumn  atmosphere  it  looked  even 
more  beautiful.  After  an  hour  in  that  heaven 
of  uplifted  thought,  into  which  we  step  from  the 
mountain-top,  our  minds  went  with  the  path 
downward  to  earth,  and  we  descended  the 
eastern  side  into  the  wild  region  which  contains 
the  Felsenmeer,  or  Sea  of  Rocks. 

We  met  on  the  way  a  student  from  Fulda — a 
fine  specimen  of  that  free-spirited  class,  and  a 
man  whose  smothered  aspiration  was  betrayed 
in  the  flashing  of  his  eye,  as  he  spoke  of  the 
present  painful  and  oppressed  condition  of  Ger- 
many. We  talked  so  busily  together  that  with- 
out noticing  the  path,  which  had  been  bringing 
us  on,  up  hill  and  down,  through  forest  and  over 
rock,  we  came  at  last  to  a  halt  in  a  valley 
among  the  mountains.  Making  inquiries  there, 
we  found  we  had  done  wrong,  and  must  ascend 
by  a  different  path  the  mountain  we  had  just 
come  down.  Near  the  summit  of  this,  in  a  wild 
pine  wood,  was  the  Felsenmeer — a  great  collec- 
tion of  rocks  heaped  together  like  pebbles  on  the 
sea  shore,  and  worn  and  rounded  as  if  by  the 
action  of  water:  so  much  do  they  resemble 
waves,  that  one  standing  at  the  bottom  and 
looking  up,  cannot  resist  the  idea,  that  they  will 
flow  down  upon  him.  It  must  have  been  a 
mighty  tide  whose  receding  waves  left  these 
masses  piled  up  together !  The  same  formation 
continues  at  intervals,  to  the  foot  of  the  mount- 
ains. It  reminded  me  of  a  glacier  of  rocks  in- 
stead of  ice.  A  little  higher  up,  lies  a  massive 
block  of  granite  called  the  "Giant's  Column." 
It  is  thirty-two  feet  long  and  three  to  four  feet 
in  diameter,  and  still  bears  the  mark  of  the 
chisel.  When  or  by  whom  it  was  made,  remains 
a  mystery.  Some  have  supposed  it  was  in- 
tended to  be  erecto;!  for  the  worship  of  the  Sun, 
by  the  wild  Teutonic:  tribes  who  inhabited  this 
forest ;  it  is  more  probably  the  work  of  the  Ro- 


92  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

mans.  A  project  was  once  started,  to  erect  it  a* 
a  monument  on  the  battle-field  of  Leipsie,  but  it 
was  found  too  difficult  to  carry  into  execution. 
After  dining  at  the  little  village  of  Reiehels 
dorf  in  the  valley  below,  where  the  merry  land- 
lord charged  my  friend  two  kreutzers  less  than 
myself  because  he  was  not  so  tall,  we  visited  the 
Castle  of  Schonberg,  and  joined  the  Bergstrasse 
again.  We  walked  the  rest  of  the  way  here; 
long  before  we  arrived,  the  moon  shone  down  on 
us  over  the  mountains,  and  when  we  turned 
around  the  foot  of  the  Heiligenberg,  the  mist  de- 
scending in  the  valley  of  the  Neckar,  rested  like 
a  light  cloud  on  the  church  bpires. 


CHAPTER -X. 

A  WALK  THROUGH  THE  ODENWALD. 

B and  I  are  now  comfortably  settled  in 

Frankfort,  having,  with  Mr.  Willis's  "kind  assist- 
ance, obtained  lodgings  with  the  amiable  family, 
with  whom  he  has  resided  for  more  than  two 
years.  My  cousin  remains  in  Heidelberg  to  at- 
tend the  winter  course  of  lectures  at  the  Unive;  • 
sity. 

Having  forwarded  our  baggage  by  the  omu*> 
bus,  we  came  hither  on  foot,  through  the  heart 
of  the  Odenwald,  a  region  full  of  interest,  yet  lit- 
tle visited  by  travellers.  Dr.  S and  his  fam- 
ily walked  with  us  three  or  four  miles  of  the 
way.  and  on  a  hill  above  Ziegelhansen.  with  a 
splendid  view  behind  us,  through  the  mountam- 
door,  out  of  which  the  Xeckar  enters  on  the 
Rhine-plain,  we  parted.  Tin's  was  a  first,  and  I 
must  confess,  a  somewhat  embarrassing  expert- 


THE  ODEXWALD.  93 

•nee  in  German  leave-taking.  After  bidding 
adieu  three  or  four  times,  we  started  to  go  up 
the  mountain  and  they  down  it,  but  at  every 
second  step  we  had  to  turn  around  to  acknowl- 
edge the  waving  of  hands  and  handkerchiefs, 
which  continued  so  long  that  I  was  glad  when 
we  were  out  of  sight  of  each  other.  We  de- 
scended on  the  other  side  into  a  wild  and  ro- 
mantic valley,  whose  meado\vs  were  of  the 
brightest  green;  a  little  brook  which  wound 
through  them,  put  now  and  then  its  "silvery 
shoulder"  to  the  wheel  of  a  rustic  mill.  By 
the  road-side  two  or  three  wild-looking  gipsies 
sat  around  a  fire,  with  some  goats  feeding  near 
them. 

Passing  through  this  valley  and  the  little  vil- 
lage of  Schonau,  we  commenced  ascending  one 
of  the  loftiest  ranges  of  the  Odenwald.  The  side 
of  the  mountain  was  covered  with  a  thick  pine 
forest.  There  was  no  wind  to  wake  its  solemn 
anthem;  all  was  calm  and  majestic,  and  even 
awful.  The  trees  rose  all  around  like  the  pillars 
of  a  vast  Cathedral,  whose  long  arched  aisles 
vanished  far  below  in  the  deepening  gloom. 

"  Nature  with  folded  hands  seemed  there, 
Kneeling  at  her  evening  prayer," 

for  twilight  had  already  begun  to  gather.  We 
went  on  and  up  and  even  higher,  like  the  youth 
in  "  Excelsior; "  the  beech  and  dwarf  oak  took 
the  place  of  the  pine,  and  at  last  we  arrived  at 
a  cleared  summit  wh'ose  long  brown  grass  waved 
•l.-'solately  in  the  dim  light  of  evening.  A  faint 
glow  still  lingered  over  the  forest-hills,  but  down 
in  the  valley  the  dusky  shades  hid  every  vestige 
of  life,  though  its  sounds  came  up  softened 
through  the  long  space.  When  we  reached  the 
top  a  bright  planet  stood  like  a  diamond  over 
the  brow  of  the  eas1<>rn  hill,  and  the  sound  of  a 
twilight  bell  came  up  clearly  and  sonorously  on 


u  vmws  A-FOOT. 

the  cool  damp  air.  The  white  veil  of  mist  slowly 
descended  down  the  mountain  side,  but  the 
peaks  rose  above  it  like  the  wrecks  of  a  world, 
floating  in  space.  We  made  our  way  in  the  dusk 
down  the  long  path,  to  the  rude  little  dorf  of 
Elsbach.  I  asked  at  the  first  inn  for  lodging, 
where  we  were  ushered  into  a  great  room,  in 
which  a  number  of  girls  who  had  been  at  work 
in  the  fields,  were  assembled.  They  were  all 
dressed  in  men's  jackets,  and  short  gowns,  and 
some  had  their  hair  streaming  down  their  back. 
The  landlord's  daughter,  however,  was  a  beauti- 
ful girl,  whose  modest,  delicate  features  con- 
trasted greatly  with  the  coarse  faces  of  the 
others.  I  thought  of  Uhland's  beautiful  little 
poem  of  "The  Landlady's  Daughter,"  as  I 
looked  on  her.  In  the  room  hung  two  or  three 
pair  of  antlers,  and  they  told  us  deer  were  still 
plenty  in  the  forests. 

When  we  left  the  village  the  next  morning,  wo 
again  commenced  ascending.  Over  the  whole 
valley  and  half  way  up  the  mountain,  lay  a 
thick  white  frost,  almost  like  snow,  which  con- 
trasted with  the  green  trees  and  bushes  scattered 
over  the  meadows,  produced  the  most  singular 
effect.  We  plucked  blackberries  ready  iced  from 
the  bushes  by  the  road-side,  and  went  on  in  the 
cold,  for  the  sun  shone  only  on  the  top  of  the 
opposite  mountain,  into  another  valley,  down 
which  rushed  the  rapid  Ulver.  At  a  little  village 
which  bears  the  beautiful  name  Anteschonmat  • 
tenwag,  we  took  a  foot-path  directly  over  *. 
steep  mountain  to  the  village  of  Finkenbach 
Near  the  top  I  found  two  wild-looking  children 
cutting  grass  with  knives,  both  of  whom  I  pre- 
vailed upon  for  a  few  kreutzers  to  stand  and  let 
me  sketch  them.  From  the  summit  the  view  on 
the  other  side  was  very  striking.  The  hills  were 
nearly  every  one  covered  with  wood,  and  not  a 
dwelling  in  sight.  It  reminded  me  of  our  forest 
scenery  at  home.  The  principal  difference  is, 


CASTLE  OF  BREACH.  95 

that  our  trees  are  two  or  three  times  the  tiro  of 
theirs. 

At  length,  after  scaling  another  mountain,  we 
reached  a  wide,  elevated  plain,  in  the  middle  of 
which  stood  the  old  dorf  of  Beerfelden.  It 
was  then  crowded  with  people,  on  account 
of  a  great  cattle  fair  being  held  there.  All  the 
fnrmerrf  of  the  neighborhood  were  assembled, 
cl;K  1  in  the  ancient  country  costume — broad 
cocked  hats  and  blue  frocks.  An  orchard  near 
the  town  was  filled  with  cattle  and  horses,  and 
near  by,  in  the  shade,  a  number  of  pedlars  had 
array.gv'-'d  their  wares.  The  cheerful  looking 
comit'-y  people  touched  their  hats  to  us  as  we 
passed.  This  custom  of  greeting  travellers, 
universal  in  Germany,  is  very  expressive  of  their 
social,  friendly  manners.  Among  the  mount- 
ains, we  frequently  met  groups  of  children,  who 
sang  together  their  simple  ballads  as  we  passed 
by. 

From.  Beerfelden  we  passed  down  the  valley  of 
t"i:3  Mimling  to  Erbach,  the  principal  city  in  the 
v)  i  '\vald,  and  there  stopped  a  short  time  to 
view  the  Itittersaal  in  the  old  family  castle  of  the 
Counts  of  Erbach.  An  officer,  who  stood  at  the 
gates,  conducted  us  to  the  door,  where  we 
were  received  by  a  noble-looking,  gray-headed 
steward.  He  took  us  into  the  Rittersaal  at 
onc<\  which  was  like  stepping  back  three  hundred 
years.  The  stained  windows  of  the  lofty  Gothic 
hall,  let  in  a  subdued  light  which  fell  on  the 
forms  of  kings  and  knights,  clad  in  the  armor 
they  wore  during  life.  On  the  left  as  we  entered, 
were  mail-covered  figures  of  John  and  Cosmo  de 
Medici;  further  on  stood  the  Emperor  Maxi- 
milian, and  by  his  side  the  celebrated  dwarf  who 
\v;iM  served  up  in  a  pie  at  one  of  the  imperial 
trusts.  His  armor  was  most  delicate  and  beau- 
t  if'il,  but  small  as  it  was,  General  Thumb  would 
h.Mvluid  room  in  it.  Gustavus  Adolphus  and 
Walleustein  looked  down  from  the  neighboring 


M  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

pedestals,  while  at  the  other  end  stood  Goeti 
von  Berlichingen  and  Albert  of  Brunswick. 
Guarding  Hie  door  were  Hans,  the  robber-knight 
of  Nuremberg,  and  another  from  the  Thiiringian 
forest.  The  steward  told  me  that  the  iron  hand 
of  Goetz  was  in  possession  of  the  family,  but  not 
sh.>wnto  strangers;  he  pointed  out,  however, 
the  buckles  on  the  armor,  by  which  it  w;is  fast- 
ened. Adjoining  the  hall  is  an  antique  chapel, 
filled  with  rude  old  tombs,  and  containing  the 
sarcophagus  of  Count  Eginhard  of  Denmark, 
who  lived  about  the  tenth  century.  There  were 
also  monkish  garments  five  hundred  years  old 
hanging  up  in  it. 

The  collection  of  antiquities  is  large  and  in- 
teresting; but  it  is  said  that  the  old  Count 
obtained  some  of  them  in  rather  a  questionable 
manner.  Among  other  incidents  they  say  that 
when  in  Rome  he  visited  the  Pope,  taking  with 
him  an  old  servant  who  accompanied  him  in  all 
his  travels,  and  was  his  accomplice  in  most  of 
his  antiquarian  thefts.  In  one  of  the  outer  halls, 
among  the  curiosities,  was  an  antique  shield  of 
great  value.  The  servant  was  left  in  the  hall 
while  the  Count  had  his  audience,  and  in  a  short 
time  this  shield  was  missed.  The  servant  who 
wore  a  long  cloak,  was  missed  also ;  orders  were 
given  to  close  the  gates  and  search  every  body, 
but  it  was  too  late — the  thief  was  gone. 

Leaving  Erbach,  we  found  out  the  direction 
of  Snellert,  the  Castle  of  the  Wild  Huntsman,  and 
took  a  road  that  led  us  for  two  or  three  hours 
along  the  top  of  a  mountain  ridge.  Through 
the  openings  in  the  pine  and  larch  forests, 
we  had  glimpses  of  the  hills  of  Spessart,  beyond 
the  Main.  When  we  finally  left  the  by-road  we 
had  chosen  it  was  quite  dark,  and  we  missed  the 
way  altogether  among  the  lanes  and  meadows. 
We  came  at  last  to  a  full  stop  at  the  house  of  a 
farmer,  who  guided  us  by  a  foot-path  over  the 
fields  to  a  small  village.  On  entering  the  only 


GERMAN  EMIGRANTS.  C7 

inn.  kept  by  the  Bargomaster,  the  people  finding 
we  Avere  Americans,  regarded  us  Avith  a  curiosity 
quite  uncomfortable.  They  crowded  around  the 
door,  Avatching  every  motion,  and  gazed  in 
through  the  Avindows.  The  Avild  huntsman  him- 
self could  scarcely  have  made  a  greater  sensa- 
tion. The  newrs  of  our  arrival  seemed  to  have 
spread  very  fast,  for  the  next  morning  Avhen  Ave 
stopped  at  a  prune  orchard  some  distance  from 
the  village  to  buy  some  fruit,  the  farmer  cried 
out  from  a  tree,  "they  are  the  Americans;  give 
them  as  many  as  they  Avant  for  nothing! " 

"Witb.  the  Burgomaster's  little  son  for  a  guide, 
we  went  back  a  mile  or  t\vo  of  our  route  to 
Snellert,  Avhich  Ave  had  passed  the  night  before, 
and  after  losing  ourseh^es  two  or  three. times  in 
the  woods,  arrived  at  last  at  the  top  of  the 
mountain,  Avhere  the  ruins  of  the  castle  stand. 
The  walls  are  nearly  level  Avith  the  ground.  The 
interest  of  a  visit  rests  entirely  on  the  romantic 
legend,  and  the  Avild  view  OArerthe  hills  around, 
particularly  that  in  front,  AY  here  on  the  opposite 
mountain  are  the  ruins  of  Rodenstein,  to  Avhich 
the  wrild  Huntsman  Avas  Avont  to  ride  at  mid- 
night— where  he  now  rides  no  more.  The  echoes 
of  Rodenstein  are  no  longer  awakened  by  the 
Bound  of  his  bugle,  and  the  hoofs  of  his  demon 
steed  clanging  on  the  battlements.  But  the 
hills  around  are  Avild  enough,  and  the  roar  of 
the  pine  forests  deep  enough  to  haA*e  inspired  the 
simple  peasants  Avith  the  romantic  tradition. 

Stopping  for  dinner  at  the  toAvn  of  Rhein- 
heim,  we  met  an  old  man,  Avho,  on  learning  AVC 
were  Americans,  walked  with  us  as  far  as  the  next 
village.  He  had  a  daughter  in  America  and  Avas 
highly  gratified  to  meet  any  one  from  the  coun- 
try of  her  adoption.  He  made  me  promise  to 
visit  her,  if  I  ever  should  go  to  St.  Louis,  and 
say  that  1  had  Avalked  with  her  father  from 
Rheinheim  to  Zwangenburg.  To  satisfy  his  fears 
that  I  might  forget  it,  I  took  down  "his  name 


ffS  I  /EWS   A- FOOT. 

.•UK]  thai;  <»f  his  daughter.  He  shook  me  warmly 
by  the  hand  at  parting,  and  was  evidently  made 
happier  for  that  day. 

We  reached  Darmstadt  just  in  time  to  take  a 
seat  in  the  omnibus  for  Frankfort.  Among  the 
passengers  were  a  Bavarian  family,  on  their 
way  to  Bremen,  to  ship  from  thence  to  Texas. 
I  endeavored  to  discourage  the  man  from  choos- 
ing such  a  country  as  his  home,  by  telling  him 
of  its  heats  and  pestilences,  but  he  was  too  full 
of  hope  to  be  shaken  in  his  purpose.  I  would 
have  added  that  it  was  a  slave-land,  but  I 
thought  on  our  own  country's  curse,  and  was 
silent.  The  wife  was  not  so  sanguine;  she 
seemed  to  mourn  in  secret  at  leaving  her  beauti- 
ful fatherland.  It  was  saddening  to  think  how 
lonely  they  would  feel  in  that  far  home,  and 
how  they  would  long,  with  true  German  devo- 
tion, to  look  again  on  the  green  vintage-hills  of 
their  forsaken  country.  As  night  drew  on,  the 
little  girl  crept  over  to  her  father  for  his  accus- 
tomed evening  kiss,  and  then  sank  back  to  sleep 
in  a  corner  of  the  wagon.  The  boy,  in  the  art- 
less confidence  of  childhood,  laid  his  head  on  my 
breast,  weary  with  the  day's  travel,  and  soon 
slept  also.  Thus  we  drove  on  in  the  dark,  till 
at  length  the  lights  of  Frankfort  glimmered  on 
the  breast  of  the  rapid  Main,  as  we  passed  over 
the  bridge,  and  when  we  stopped  near  the  Cathe- 
dral, I  delivered  up  my  little  charge  and  sent 
my  sympathy  with  the  wanderers  on  their 
lonely  way. 


FRANKFORT.  »B 


CHAPTER  XI. 

•GENES  IN  FRANKFORT — AN  AMERICAN  COMPOSER-  - 
THE  POET  FREILIGRATH. 

Dec.  4.—  This  is  a  genuine  old  German  city. 
Founded  by  Charlemagne,  afterwards  a  rallying 
point  of  the  Crusaders,  and  for  a  long  time  the 
capital  of  the  German  empire,  it  has  no  lack  of 
interesting  historical  recollections,  and  notwith- 
standing it  is  fast  becoming  modernized,  ono  is 
everywhere  reminded  of  the  Past.  The  Cathe- 
dral, old  as  the  days  of  Peter  the  Hermit,  the 
grotesque  street  of  the  Jews,  the  many  quaint, 
antiquated  dwellings  and  the  moulderingwatch- 
towers  on  the  hills  around,  give  it  a  more  inter- 
esting character  than  any  German  city  I  have 
yet  seen.  The  house  we  dwell  in,  on  theMarkt 
Platz,  is  more  than  two  hundred  years  old; 
directly  opposite  is  a  great  castellated  building, 
gloomy  with  the  wight  of  six  centuries,  and  a 
few  steps  to  the  left  brings  me  to  the  square 
of  the  Koemerberg,  where  the  Emperors  were 
crowned,  in  the  corner  of  which  is  a  curiously 
ornamented  house,  formerly  the  residence  of 
Luther.  There  are  legends  innumerable  con- 
nected with  all  these  buildings,  and  even  yet 
discoveries  are  frequently  made  in  old  houses, 
of  secret  chambers  and  stnircnsos.  When  you 
add  to  all  this,  the  German  love  of  ghost  stories, 
and,  indeed,  their  general  belief  in  spirits,  the 
lover  of  romance  could  not  desire  a  more  agree-, 
able  residence. 

I  often  look  out  on  the  singular  scene  beiow 
my  window.    On  both  sides  of  the  street,  leaving 


100  VIEWS   A- FOOT. 

barely  room  to  enter  th(3  houses,  sit  UK'  market 
Women,  with  their  baskets  of  veg» -tables  and 
fruit.  The  middle  of  the  street  is  filled  with 
women  buying,  and  every  cart  or  carriage  that 
comes  along,  has  to  force  its  way  through  the 
crowd,  sometimes  rolling  against  and  overturn- 
ing the  baskets  on  the  side,  when  lor  a  few  min- 
utes 1  he-re  is  a  Uabel  of  unintelligible  sounds. 
The  country  women  in  their  jackets  and  short 
go  \viis  go  backwards  and  forwaids  -\\ith  great 
loads  on  their  h".-ids,  sometimes  n<  arly  as  higli 
as  themselves.  It  is  a  most  singular  scene,  and 
so  varied  that  one  never  tires  of  looking  upon  it. 
These  women  sit  here  from  sunrise  till  sunset, 
day  after  day,  for  years.  They  have  little  fur- 
naces for  cooking  and  for  warmth  in  winter,  and 
when  it  rains  they  sit  in  large  wooden  boxes. 
One  or  two  policemen  are  generally  on  the 
ground  in  the  morning  to  prevent  disputing 
about  their  places,  which  often  gives  rise  to 
interesting  scenes.  Perhaps  this  kind  of  life  in 
the  open  air  is  conducive  to  longevity:  for  cer- 
tainly there  is  no  country  en  earth  that  has  as 
many  old  women.  Many  of  them  look  like  walk- 
ing machines  made  of  leather;  and  to  judge 
from  what  I  see  in  the  streets  here,  I  should 
think  they  work  till  they  die. 

On  the  21st  of  October  a  most  interesting  fete 
took  place.  The  magnificent  monument  of 
(id -the,  modelled  by  the  sculptor  Schwanthaler, 
at  .Muni  -!i,  and  cast  in  bronze,  was  unveiled.  It 
arrived  a  few  days  before,  and  was  received  with 
m  u« -h  ceremony  and  erected  in  the  destined  s]  or, 
an  open  square  in  the  western  part  of  the  city. 
planted  with  acacia  trees.  I  went  there  at  ten 
o'clock,  and  found  the  square  already  full  of 
people.  Seats  had  been  erected  around  the  mon- 
ument for  ladies,  the  singers  and  musicians.  A 
company  of  soldiers  was  stationed  to  keep  ;  n 
entrance  for  the  procession,  which  at  lengvh 
arrived  with  music  and  banners,  and  entered  the 


A   GERMAN  CITY.  101 

enclosure.  A  song  for  the  occasion  was  sung  by 
the  choir ;  it  swelled  up  gradually,  and  with  euch 
perfect  harmony  and  unity,  that  it  seemed  like 
some  glorious  instrument  touched  by  a  single 
hand.  Then  a  poetical  address  was  delivered; 
after  which  four  young  men  took  their  stand  at 
the  corners  of  the  monument;  the  drums  and 
trumpets  gave  a  flourish,  and  the  mantle  fell. 
The  noble  figure  seemed  to  rise  out  of  the  earth, 
and  thus  amid  shoutings  and  the  triumphal  peal 
of  the  band,  the  form  of  Goethe  greeted  the  city 
of  his  birth.  He  is  represented  as  leaning  on  the 
trunk  of  a  tree,  holding  in  his  right  hand  a  roll 
of  parchment,  and  in  his  left  a  wreath.  The 
pedestal,  which  is  also  of  bronze,  contains  bas 
reliefs,  representing  scenes  from  Faust,  Wilhelm, 
Meister  and  Egmont.  In  the  evening  Goethe's 
house,  in  a  street  near,  was  illuminated  by 
arches  of  lamps  between  the  windows  and  hung 
with  wreaths  of  flowers.  Four  pillars  of  colored 
lamps  lighted  the  statue.  At  nine  o'clock  the 
choir  of  singers  came  again  in  a  procession,  with 
colored  lanterns,  on  poles,  and  after  singing  two 
or  three  songs,  the  statue  was  exhibited  in  the 
red  glare  of  the  Bengal  light.  The  trees  and 
houses  around  the  square  were  covered  with  the 
glow,  which  streamed  in  broad  sheets  up  against 
the  dark  sky. 

Within  the  walls  the  greater  part  of  Frank- 
fort is  built  in  the  old  German  style — the  houses 
six  or  seven  stories  high,  and  every  story  pro- 
jecting out  over  the  other,  so  that  those  living 
in  the  upper  part  can  nearly  shako  hands  out  of 
the  windows.  At  the  corners  figures  of  mf  n  are 
often  seen,  holding  up  the  story  above  on  their 
shoulders  and  making  horrible  faces  at  the 
weight.  When  I  state  that  in  all  these  i;;r -vov,' 
streets  which  constitute  the  greater  part  cf  tho 
city,  there  are  no  sidewalks,  the  v/indows  of  the 
lower  stories  with  an  iron  grating  extending  a 
foot  or  so  into  the  street,  which  is  only  vide 


102  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

enough  for  one  cart  to  pass  along,  you  can  have 
some  idea  of  the  facility  of  walking  through 
them,  to  say  nothing  of  the  piles  of  wood,  and 
market-women  with  baskets  of  vegetables  which 
one  is  continually  stumbling  over.  Even  in  the 
wider  streets,  I  have  always  to  look  bet'or--  and 
behind  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of  the  fiacres;  the 
people  here  get  so  accustomed  to  it,  that  they 
leave  barely  room  for  them  to  pass,  and  the  car- 
riages go  dashing  by  at  a  nearness  which  some- 
times makes  me  shudder. 

As  I  walked  across  the  Main,  and  looked  down 
at  the  swift  stream  on  its  way  from  the  distant 
Thuringian  forest  to  join  the  Rhine.  I  thought 
of  the  time  when  Schiller  stood  there  in  the  days 
of  his  early  struggles,  an  exile  from  his  native 
land,  and  looking  over  the  bridge,  said  in  the 
loneliness  of  his  heart,  "That  water  flows  not  so 
deep  as  my  sufferings!"  In  the  middle  on  an 
iron  ornament,  stands  the  golden  cock  at  which 
Goethe  used  to  marvel  when  a  boy.  Perhaps  you 
have  not  heard  the  legend  connected  with  this. 
The  bridge  was  built  several  hundred  years  ago, 
with  such  strength  and  solidity  that  it  will 
stand  many  hundred  yet.  The  architect  had 
contracted  to  build  it  within  a  certain  time,  but 
as  it  drew  near,  without  any  prospect  of  fulfil- 
ment, the  devil  appeared  to  him  and  promised 
to  finish  it,  on  condition  of  having  the  first  soul 
that  passed  over  it.  This  was  agreed  upon  and 
the  devil  performed  his  part  of  the  bargain. 
The  artist,  howrever,  on  the  day  appointed, 
drove  a  cock  across  before  he  suffered  anyone 
to  pass  over  it.  His  majesty  stationed  himself 
under  the  middle  arch  of  the  bridge,  awaiting  his 
prey ;  but  enraged  at  the  cheat,  he  tore  the  un- 
fortunate fowl  in  pieces  and  broke  two  holes  in 
1he  arch,  saying  they  should  never  be  built  up 
again.  The  golden"  cock  was  erected  on  the 
bridge  as  a  token  of  the  event,  but  the  devil  has 
perhaps  lost  some  of  his  power  in  these  latter 


MUSIC.  103 

days,  for  the  holes  were  filled  up  about  thirty 
years  ago. 

From  the  hills  on  the  Darmstadt  road,  I  had 
a  view  of  the  country  around — the  fields  were 
white  and  bare,  and  the  dark  Tannus,  with  the 
broad  patches  of  snow  on  his  sides,  looked  grim 
and  shadowy  through  the  dim  atmosphere.  It 
was  like  the  landscape  of  a  dream — dark, 
strange  and  silent.  The  whole  of  last  month  we 
Saw  the  sun  but  two  or  three  days,  the  sky  be- 
ing almost  continually  covered  with  a  gloomy 
fog.  England  and  Germany  seem  to  have  ex- 
changed climates  this  year,  for  in  the  former 
country  we  had  delightfully  clear  weather. 

I  have  seen  the  Danker  Rothschild  several 
times  driving  about  the  city.  This  one — 
Anselmo,  the  most  celebrated  of  the  brothers — 
holds  a  mortgage  on  the  city  of  Jerusalem.  He 
rides  about  in  style,  with  officers  attending  his 
carriage.  He  ic  a  little  bald-headed  man,  with 
marked  Jewish  features,  and  is  said  not  to 
df>c(4ve  his  looks.  At  any  rate,  his  reputation 
is  none  of  the  best,  either  with  Jews  or  Chris- 
1i«ins.  A  caricature  was  published  some  time 
ago,  in  which  he  is  represented  as  giving  a  beg- 
gar woman  by  the  wayside,  a  kreutzer — the 
smallest  German  coin.  She  is  made  to  exclaim, 
"God  reward  you,  a  thousand  fold!"  He  im- 
mediately replies,  after  reckoning  up  in  his  head: 
"How  much  have  1  then? — sixteen  florins  and 
forty  kreutzers ! " 

I  have  lately  heard  one  of  the  most  perfectly 
beautiful  creations  that  ever  emanated  from  the 
soul  of  genius — the  opera  of  Fidelio.  I  have 
caught  faint  glimpses  of  that  rich  world  of  fancy 
and  feeling,  to  which  music  is  the  golden  door. 
Surrendering  myself  to  the  grasp  of  Beethoven's 
powerful  conception,  I  read  in  sounds  far  more 
expressive  than  words,  the  almost  despairing 
agony  of  tho  strong-hearted,  but  still  tender 
and  womanly  Fidelio — the  ecstatic  joy  of  the 


tM  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

wasted  prisoner,  when  he  rose  from  his  hard 
couch  in  the  dungeon,  seeming  to  feel,  in  his 
maniac  brain,  the  presentiment  of  a  bright  be- 
ing who  would  come  to  unbind  his  chains — and 
the  sobbing  and  wailing,  almost  human,  which 
came  from  the  orchestra,  when  they  dug  his 
grave,  by  the  dim  lantern's  light.  When  it  was 
done,  the  murderer  stole  into  the  dungeon,  to 
gloat  on  the  agonies  of  his  victim,  ere  he  gave 
the  death-blow.  Then,  while  the  prisoner  is 
waked  to  reason  by  that  sight,  and  Fidelio 
throws  herself  before  the  uplifted  dagger,  rescu- 
ing her  husband  with  the  courage  which  love 
gives  to  a  woman's  heart,  the  storm  of  feeling 
which  has  been  gathering  in  the  music,  swells 
to  a  height  beyond  which  it  seemed  impossible 
for  the  soul  to  pass.  My  nerves  were  tli rilled 
till  I  could  bear  no  more.  A  mist  seemed  to 
come  before  my  eyes  and  I  scarcely  knew  what 
followed,  till  the  rescued  kneeled  together  and 
poured  forth  in  the  closing  hymn  the  painful 
fullness  of  their  joy.  I  dreaded  the  sound  of 
voices  after  the  close,  and  the  walk  home  amid 
the  harsh  rattling  of  vehicles  on  the  rough 
streets.  For  days  afterwards  my  brain  WM^ 
filled  with  a  mingled  and  confused  sense  of 
melody,  like  the  half-remembered  music  of  a 
dream. 

Why  should  such  magnificent  creations  of  art- 
be  denied  the  new  world?  There  is  certainly  en- 
thusiasm and  refined  feeling  enough  at  home  to 
appreciate  them,  were  theproper  direction  given 
to  the  popular  taste.  What  country  possesrs 
more  ad  vantages  to  foster  the  growth  "of  such  an 
art,  than  ours?  Why  should  not  the  composer 
gain  mighty  conceptions  from  the  grandeur  of 
our  mountain  scenery,  from  the  howling  of  the 
storm  through  our  giant  forests,  from  the  eter- 
nal thunder  of  Niagara?  All  these  collateral  in- 
fluences, which  more  or  less  tend  to  the  develop- 
ment and  expansion  of  genius,  are  character-is- 


RICH AK D  S.   WTLLIS.  105 

tics  of  our  country;  and  a  taste  for  musical 
compositions  of  a  refined  and  lofty  character, 
would  soon  give  birth  to  creators. 

Fortunately  for  our  country,  this  missing  star 
in  the  crown -of  her  growing  glory,  will  probably 
soon  be  replaced.  Richard  S.  Willis,  with  whom 
we  have  lived  in  delightful  companionship,  since 
coming  here,  has  been  for  more  than  two  years 
st u ; lying  and  preparing  himself  for  the  higher 
branches  of  composition.  The  musical  talent  he 
displayed  while  at  college,  and  the  success  fol- 
lowing the  publication  of  a  set  of  beautiful 
waltxos  ho  there  composed,  led  him  to  choose 
this  most  difficult  but  lofty  path;  the  result  jus- 
tifies his  early  promise  and  gives  the  most  san- 
guine anticipations  for  the  future.  He  studied 
the  first  two  years  here  under  Schnyder  von 
Wnrtensee,  a  distinguished  Swiss  composer; 
and  his  exercises  have  met  with  the  warmest  ap- 
proval from  Mendelsohn,  at  present  the  first  Ger- 
man composer,  and  Rinck,  the  celebrated  or- 
ganist. The  enormous  labor  and  application 
required  to  go  through  the  preparatory  studies 
alone,  would  make  it  seem  almost  impossible 
for  one  with  the  restless  energy  of  the  American 
character,  to  undertake  it;  but  as  this  very 
energy  gives  genius  its  greatest  power,  we  may 
now  trust  with  confidence  that  Willis,  since  he 
has  nearly  completed  his  studies,  will  win  him- 
self and  his  country  honor  in  the  difficult  path 
he  has  chosen. 

One  evening,  after  sunset,  we  took  a  stroll 
around  the  promenades.  The  swans  were  still 
floating  on  the  little  lake,  and  the  American 
poplar  beside  it,  was  in  its  full  autumn  livery. 
As  we  made  the  circuit  of  the  walks,  guns  were 
firing  far  and  near,  celebrating  the  opening  oi 
the  vintage  the  next  day,  and  rockets  went  glit- 
tering and  sparkling  up  into  the  dark  air. 
Notwithstanding  the  late  hour  and  lowering 
&ky,  the  walks  were  full  of  people,  and  we  strolled 


106  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

about  with  them  till  it  grew  quite  dark,  watch- 
ing the  lire-works  which  arose  from  the  gardens 
around. 

The  next  day,  we  went  into  the  Frankfort 
wood.  Willis  and  Ms  brother-in-law,  Chariee  F. 
Dennett,  of  Boston,  Dr.  Dix  and  another  you':g 
gentleman  from  the  same  city,  formed  the  parly 
— six  Americans  in  all;  we  walked  ov»  r  ihe  Main 
and  through  the  dirty  suburbs  of  Saehsenhan- 
sen,  where  we  met  many  peasants  laden  with  the 
first  day's  vintage,  and  crowds  of  people  coming 
down  from  the  vineyards.  As  we  ascended  the 
hill,  the  sound  of  firing  was  heard  in  every  di- 
rection, and  from  many  vineyards  arose  the 
smoke  of  fires  where  groups  of  merry  children 
were  collecting  and  burning  the  rubbish.  We 
became  lost  among  the  winding  paths  of  the 
pine  forests,  so  that  by  the  time  we  came  out 
upon  the  eminence  overlooking  the  valley  of  the 
Main,  it  was  quite  dark.  From  every  side,  far 
and  near,  rockets  of  all  sizes  and  colors  darted 
high  up  into  the  sky.  Sometimes  a  flight  of  the 
most  brilliant  crimson  and  gold  lights  rushed 
up  together,  then  again  by  some  farm-house  in 
the  meadow,  the  vintagers  would  barn  a  Roman 
candle,  throwing  its  powerful  white  light  on  the 
gardens  and  fields  around.  We  stopped  under 
a  garden  wall,  by  which  a  laughing  company 
were  assembled  in  the  smoke  and  red  blaze,  and 
watched  several  comets  go  hissing  and  glancing 
far  above  us.  The  cracking  of  ammunition  still 
continued,  and  when  we  came  again  upon  the 
bridge,  the  city  opposite  was  lighted,  as  if  illu 
minated.  The  full  moon  had  just  risen,  soften- 
ing and  mellowing  the  beautiful  scene,  while  be- 
yond, over  the  tower  of  Frankfort,  rose  and  fell 
the  meteors  that  heralded  the  vintage. 

Since  I  have  been  in  Frankfort,  an  event  has 
occurred,  which  shows  very  distinct  the  principles 
nt  work  in  Germany,  and  gives  us  some  fore- 
boding of  tie  future/ Ferdinand  Freiligrath,  the 


THE  POET  FREILIGRA  TH.  lOf 

first  living  poet  with  the  exception  of  Uhland, 
has  within  a  few  weeks  published  a  volume  of 
poems  entitled,  "My  Confession  of  Faith,  or 
Poems  for  the  Times."  It  contains  some  thrill- 
ing appeals  to  the  free  spirit  of  the  German  peo- 
ple, setting  forth  the  injustice  under  which  they 
labor,  in  simple  but  powerful  language,  and 
with  the  most  forcible  illustrations,  adapted  to 
the  comprehension  of  every  one.  Viewed  as  a 
work  of  genius  alone,  it  is  strikingly  powerful 
and  original:  but  when  we  consider  the  effect  it 
is  producing  among  the  people — the  strength  it 
will  add  to  the  rising  tide  of  opposition  to  every 
form  of  tyranny,  it  has  a  still  higher  interest. 
Freiligrath  had  three  or  four  years  before,  re- 
ceived a  pension  of  three  hundred  thalers  from 
the  King  of  Prussia,  soon  after  his  accession  to 
the  throne:  he  ceased  to  draw  this  about  a  year 
ago,  stating  in  the  preface  to  his  volume  that  it 
was  accepted  in  the  belief  the  King  would  adhere 
to  his  promise  of  giving  the  people  a  new  consti- 
tution, but  that  now  since  time  has  proved  there 
is  no  dependence  to  be  placed  on  the  King's 
word,  he  must  speak  for  his  people  and  for  his 
land. 

The  book  has  not  only  been  prohibited,  but 
Froiligrath  has  exiled  himself  voluntarily,  to  es- 
cape imprisonment.  He  is  now  in  Paris,  where 
Heine  and  Herwegh,  two  of  Germany's  finest 
poets,  both  banished  for  the  same  reason,  are 
living.  The  free  spirit  which  characterizes  these 
men,  who  come  from  among  the  people,  shows 
plainly  the  tendency  of  the  times;  and  it  is  only 
the  great  strength  with  which  tyranny  here  has 
environed  himself,  and  the  almost  lethargic 
slowness  of  the  Germans,  which  has  prevented  a 
change  ere  this. 

In  this  volume  of  Freiligrath's,  among  other 
things,  is  a  translation  of  Bryant's  magnificent 
poem  "The  Winds.''  and  Burns's  "A  man's  a 
man  for  a'  that;"  and  I  have  translated  one  of 


1^6  VIEWS  A- POOT. 

his,  as  a  specimen  of  the  spirit  in  which  they  are 
(rvrritten: 

FREEDOM  AND  RIGHT. 

Oh!  think  not  she  rests  in  the  grave's  chilly  slumber 

Nor  sheds  o'er  the  present  her  glorious  light, 
Since  Tyranny's  shackles  the  free  soul  incumber 

And  traitors  accusing,  deny  to  us  Right! 
No:  whether  to  exile  the  sworn  ones  are  wending, 
Or  weary  of  power  that  crushed  them  unending, 
In  dungeons  have  perished,  their  veins  madly  rending,* 
Yet  Freedom  still  liveth,  and  with  her,  the  Right! 
Freedom  and  Right! 

A  single  defeat  can  confuse  us  no  longer: 
It  adds  to  the  combat's  fast  gathering  might, 

It  bids  us  but  doubly  to  struggle,  and  stronger, 

To  raise  up  our  battle-cry-^-'1  Freedom  and  Right!" 

For  the  Twain  know  a  union  forever  abiding, 

Together  in  Truth  and  in  majesty  striding; 

Where  Right  is,  alveady  the  free  are  residing 
And  ever,  where  dwell  the  free,  governeth  Right! 
Freedom  and  Right! 

And  this  is  a  trust:  never  made,  as  at  present, 
The  glad  pair  from  battle  to  buttle  their  flight; 

Never  breathed  through  the  soul  of  the  down-trodden 

peasant, 
Their  spirit  so  deeply  its  promptings  of  light! 

They  sweep  o'er  the  earth  with  a  tempest  like  token; 

From  strand  unto  strand  words  of  thunder  are  spoken; 

Already  the  serf  finds  his  manacles  broken, 
And  those  of  the  negro  are  falling  from  sight 
Freedom  and  Right! 

Yes,  every  whefe  wide  is  their  war  banner  waving, 
On  the  armies  of  Wrong  their  revenge  to  requite; 
The  strength  of  Oppression  they  boldly  are  braving 
And  at  last  they  will  conquer,  resistless  in  might! 
Oh,  God  !  what  a  glorious  wreath  then  appearing 
Will  blend  every  leaf  in  the  banner  they're  bearing — 
The  olive  of  Greece  and  the  shamrock  of  Erin, 

And  the  oak-bough  of  Gerrmny,  greenest  in  light! 
Freedom  and  Right! 

*  This  allusion  is  to  Woidig,  who,  imprisoned  for  yenr*  nt  Darmstadt 
on  ncoount  of  his  political  principles,  finally  committed  suicide  by  cutting 
his  throat  with  the  glass  of  his  prison  window. 


A  STUDENTS'  COMMERS.  109 

And  many  who  suffered,  are  now  calmly  sleeping, 
The  slumber  of  freemen,  borne  down  by  the  fight; 

While  the  Twain  o'er  their  graves  still  a  bright  watch  are 

keeping, 
Whom  we  bless  for  their  memories — Freedom  and  Right! 

Meanwhile  lift  your  glasses!  to  those  who  have  striven! 

And  striving  with  bold  hearts,  to  misery  were  driven! 

Who  fought  for  the  Right  and  but  Wrong  then  were  given  I 
To  Right,  the  immortal — to  Freedom  through  Right! 
Freedom  through  Right! 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A  WEEK  AMONG  THE  STUDENTS. 

Receiving  a  letter  from  my  cousin  one  bright 
December  morning,  the  idea  of  visiting  him 

struck  me,  and  so,  within  an  hour,  B and  I 

were  on  our  way  to  Heidelberg.  It  was  delight- 
ful weather ;  the  air  was  mild  as  the  early  days 
of  spring,  the  pine  forests  around  wore  a  softer 
green,  and  though  the  sun  was  but  a  hand's 
breadth  high,  even  at  noon,  it  was  quite  warm 
on  the  open  road.  We  stopped  for  the  night  at 
Bensheim ;  the  next  morning  was  as  dark  as  a 
cloudy  day  in  the  north  can  be,  wearing  a  heavy 
gloom  I  never  saw  elsewhere.  The  wind  blew  the 
snow  down  from  the  summits  upon  us,  but  be- 
ing warm  from  walking,  we  did  not  heed  it.  The 
mountains  looked  higher  than  in  summer,  and 
the  old  castles  more  grim  and  frowning.  From 
the  hard  roads  and  freezing  Aviud,  my  feet  be- 
came very  sore,  and  after  limping  along  in  ex- 
scruciating  pain  for  a  league  or  two,  I  filled  my 
boots  with  brandy,  which  deadened  the  wounds 
so  much,  that  I  was  enabled  to  go  on  in  a  kind 
of  trot,  which  I  kept  up,  only  stopping  ten  min- 
utes to  dinner,  till  we  reached  Heidelberg. 

The  same  evening  there  was  to  be  a  general 


110  riEIVS   A-FOOT. 

commers,  or  meeting  of  the  societies  among  the 
students,  and  I  determined  not  to  omit  witness- 
ing one  of  the  most  interesting  and  character- 
istic  features  of  student-life.  So  borrowing  a  <  •;  i  ]  > 
and  coat,  I  looked  the  student  well  enough  to 
pass  for  one  of  them,  though  the  former  article 
was  somewhat  of  a  Philister  form.  Baader,  a 
young  poet  of  some  note,  and  president  of  the 
"Palatia"  Society,  having  promised  to  take  us 
there,  we  met  at  eight  o'clock  at  an  inn  fre- 
quented by  the  students,  and  went  to  the  ren- 
dezvous, near  the  Markt  Platz. 

A  confused  sound  of  voices  came  from  the  inn, 
as  we  drew  near;  groups  of  students  were  stand- 
ing around  the  door.  In  the  entry  we  saw  the 
Red  Fisherman,  one  of  the  most  conspicuous 
characters  about  the  University.  He  is  a  small, 
stout  man,  with  bare  neck  and  breast,  red  hair, 
whence  his  name,  and  a  strange  mixture  of 
roughness  and  benevolence  in  his  countenance. 
He  has  saved  many  persons  at  the  risk  of  his 
own  life,  from  drowning  in  the  Neckar,  and  on 
that  account  is  leniently  dealt  with  by  the  fac- 
ulty whenever  he  is  arrested  for  assisting  the 
students  in  any  of  their  unlawful  proceedings. 
Entering  the  room  I  could  scarce!}  see  at  first, 
on  account  of  the  smoke  that  ascended  from  a 
hundred  pipes.  All  was  noise  and  confusion. 
Near  the  door  sat  some  half  dozen  musicians 
who  were  getting  their  instruments  ready  for 
action,  and  the  long  room  was  filled  with  tables, 
all  of  which  seemed  to  be  full  and  the  students 
were  still  pressing  in.  The  tables  were  covered 
with  great  stone  jugs  and  long  beer  glasses ;  the 
students  were  talking  and  shouting  and  drink- 
ing.— One  who  appeared  to  have  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  meeting,  found  seats  for  us  together, 
and  having  made  a  slight  acquaintance  with 
those  sitting  next  us,  we  felt  more  at  liberty  to 
witness  their  proceedings.  They  were  all  talk- 
ing in  a  sociable,  friendly  way,  and  I  saw  no  or.:) 


SONGS  AND  SPEECHES.  Ill 

\\lio  appeared  to  be  intoxicated.  The  beer  was 
tt  \\vak  mixture,  which  I  should  think  would 
make  one  fall  over  from  its  weight  before  it 
would  intoxicate  him.  Those  sitting  near  me 
drank  but  little,  and  that  principally  to  make 
or  return  compliments.  One  or  two  atthe  other 
end  of  the  table  were  more  boisterous,  and  more 
than  one  glass  was  overturned  on  the  legs  below 
it.  Leaves  containing  the  songs  for  the  evening 
lay  at  each  seat,  and  at  the  head,  where  the 
President  sat,  were  two  swords  crossed,  with 
which  he  occasionally  struck  upon  the  table  to 
preserve  order.  Our  President  was  a  fine,  ro- 
mantic-looking young-  man,  dressed  in  the  old 
German  costume,  which  is  far  handsomer  than 
the  modern.  I  never  saw  in  any  company  of 
young  men,  so  many  handsome,  manly  counte- 
nances. If  their  faces  were  any  index  of  their 
characters,  there  were  many  noble,  free  souls 
among  them.  Nearly  opposite  to  me  sat  a 
young  poet,  whose  dark  eyes  flashed  with  feel- 
ing as  he  spoke  to  tho*e  near  him.  After  some 
time  passed  in  talking  and  drinking  together, 
varied  by  an  occasional  air  from  the  musicians, 
the  President  beat  order  with  the  sword,  and  the 
whole  company  joined  in  one  of  their  glorious 
songs,  to  a  melody  at  the  same  time  joyous  and 
solemn.  Swelled  by  so  many  manly  voices  it 
rose  up  like  a  hymn  of  triumph — all  other  sounds 
were  stilled.  Three  times  during  the  singing  all 
Fose  up,  clashed  their  glasses  together  around 
the  tables  and  drank  to  their  Fatherland,  a 
health  and  blessing  to  the  patriot,  and  honor  to 
those  who  struggle  in  the  cause  of  freedom,  at 
the  close  s  hundering  out  their  motto : 

"  Fearless  in  strife,  to  the  banner  still  true!" 

After  this  song  the  same  order  as  before  was 
continued,  except  that  students  from  the  differ- 
ent societies  made  short  speeches,  accompanied 


112  VIEWS   A -FOOT. 

by  some  toast  or  sentiment.  One  spoke  of  Ger- 
many— predicting  that  all  her  dissensions  would 
be  overcome,  and  she  would  rise  up  at  last,  like 
a  phcenix  among  the  nations  of  Europe;  and  <i1 
the  close  gave  "strong,  united,  regenerated  ( ;<r- 
niiiny!"  Instantly  all  sprang  to  their  feet,  and 
clashing  the  glasses  together, gave  a  thundering 
"hochF*  This  enthusiasm  for  their  country  is 
one  of  the  strongest  characteristics  of  the  ( Si- 
man  students;  they  have  ever  been  first  in  the 
field  for  her  freedom,  and  on  them  mainly  de- 
pends her  future  redemption. 

Cloths  were  passed  around,  the  tables  wiped 
off,  and  preparations  made  to  sing  the  "Ltindx- 
father"  or  consecration  song.  This  isoneoftbe 
most  important  and  solemn  of  their  ceremonies, 
since  by  performing  it  the  new  students  are  made 
burschen,  and  the  bands  of  brotherhood  contin- 
ually kept  fresh  and  sacred.  All  became  still  a 
moment,  then  they  commenced  the  lofty  song: 

"  Silent  bending,  each  one  lending 

To  the  solemn  tones  his  ear, 
Hark,  the  song  cf  songs  is  sounding 
Back  from  joyful  choir  resounding, 
Hear  it,  German  brothers,  hear! 

"  German  proudly,  raise  it  loudly, 

Singing  of  your  fatherland — 
Fatherland!  thou  land  of  story, 
To  the  altars  of  thy  glory 
Consecrate  us,  sword  in  hand! 

"  Take  the  beaker,  pleasure  seeker, 

With  thy  country's  drink  brimmed  o'er! 
In  thy  left  the  sword  is  blinking, 
Pierce  it  through  the  cap,  while  drinking 
To  thy  Fatherland  once  more!  " 

With  the  first  line  of  the  last  stanza,  the  Pres- 
idents sitting  at  the  head  of  the  table,  take  their 
glasses  in  their  right  hands,  and  at  the  third 
line,  the  sword  in  their  left,  at  the  end  striking 
their  glasses  together  and  drinking. 


THE  LANDSFATHER.  113 

"  In  left  hand  gleaming,  thou  art  beaming, 

Sword  from  all  dishonor  free! 
Thus  I  pierce  the  cap,  while  swearing, 
It  in  honor  ever  wearing, 

I  a  valiant  Bursch  will  be!'' 

They  clash  their  swords  together  till  the  third 
fine  is  sung,  when  each  takes  his  cap,  and  pierc- 
ing the  point  of  the  sword  through  the  crown, 
draws  it  down  to  the  guard.  Leaving  their  caps 
on  the  swords,  the  Presidents  stand  behind  the 
two  next  students,  who  go  through  the  same 
ceremony,  receiving  the  swords  at  the  appropri- 
ate time,  and  giving  it  back  loaded  with  their 
caps  also.  This  ceremony  is  going  on  at  every 
table  at  the  same  time.  These  two  stanzas  are 
repeated  for  every  pair  of  students,  till  all  have 
gone  through  with  it,  and  the  Presidents  have 
arrived  at  the  bottom  of  the  table,  with  their 
swords  strung  full  of  caps.  Here  they  exchange 
Swords,  while  all  sing : 

"  Come  thou  bright  sword,  now  made  holy, 

Of  freemen  the  weapon  free; 
Bring  it  solemnly  and  slowly, 

Heavy  with  pierced  caps,  to  me! 
From  its  burden  now  divest  it; 

Brothers  be  ye  covered  all, 

And  till  our  next  festival, 
Hallowed  and  unspotted  rest  it! 

"Up  ye  feast  companions!  ever 

Honor  ye  our  holy  band! 
And  with  heart  and  soul  endeavor 

E'er  as  high-souled  men  to  stand! 
Up  to  feast,  ye  men  united! 

Worthy  be  your  fathers'  fame, 

And  the  sword  may  no  one  claim, 
Who  to  honor  is  not  plighted!" 

Then  each  President,  taking  a  cap  ofl  his 
sword,  reached  it  to  the  stn<!"iit  opposite,  and 
they  crossed  their  swords.  t!ic  <inds  resting  on 
the  two  students'  heads,  while  they  sang  the 
next  stanza : 


114  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

"  So  take  it  back;  thy  head  I  now  will  cover 

And  stretch  the  bright  sword  over. 
Live  also  then  this  Bursche,  hoch! 
Wherever  we  may  meet  him, 
Will  we,  as  Brother  greet  him—- 
Live also  this,  our  Brother,  hoch!  " 

This  ceremony  was  repeated  till  all  the  caps 
were  given  back,  and  they  then  concluded  with 
the  following : 

"  Rest,  the  Burschen-feast  is  over, 

Hallowed  sword  and  thou  art  free  I 
Each  one  strive  a  valiant  lover 

Of  his  fatherland  to  be! 
Hail  to  him,  who,  glory -haunted, 

Follows  still  his  fathers  bold; 

And  the  sword  may  no  one  hold 
But  the  noble  and  undaunted!" 

The  Landsfather  being  over,  the  students  were 
less  orderly;  the  smoking  and  drinking  began 
again  and  we  left,  as  it  was  already  eleven 
o  clock,  glad  to  breathe  the  pure  cold  air. 

In  the  University  I  heard  Gervinus,  who  was 
formerly  professor  in  Gottingen,  but  was  obliged 
to  leave  on  account  of  his  liberal  principles. 
He  is  much  liked  by  the  students  and  his  lec- 
tures are  very  well  attended.  They  had  this 
winter  a  torchlight  procession  in  honor  of  him. 
He  is  a  stout,  round-faced  man,  speaks  very  fast, 
and  makes  them  laugh  continually  with  his 
witty  remarks.  In  the  room  I  saw  a  son  of 
Riickert,  the  poet,  with  a  face  strikingly  like  his 
father's.  The  next  evening  I  went  to  hearSchlos- 
Ber,  the  great  historian.  Among  his  pupils  are 
the  two  princes  of  Baden,  who  are  now  at  the 
University.  He  came  hurriedly  in,  threw  down 
his  portfolio  and  began  instantly  to  speak.  He 
is  an  old,  gray-headed  man,  but  still  active  and 
full  of  energy.  The  Germans  find  him  exceed- 
ingly difficult  to  understand,  as  he  is  said  to  use 
the  English  construction  almost  entirely;  for 
this  reason,  perhaps,  I  understood  him  quite 


A  DUE L.  115 

easily.  He  lectures  on  the  French  Revolution, 
but  is  engaged  iu  writing-  a  Universal  History, 
the  first  numbers  of  which  are  published. 

Two  or  three  days  after,  we  heard  that  a  duel 
was  to  take  place  at  Neuenheim,  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  Neckar,  where  the  students  have  a 
house  hired  for  that  purpose.  In  order  to  wit- 
ness the  spectacle,  we  started  immediately  with 
two  or  three  students.  Along  the  road  were 
stationed  old  women,  at  intervals,  as  guards,  to 
give  notice  of  the  approach  of  the  police,  and 
from  these  we  learned  that  one  duel  had  already 
been  fought,  and  they  Avere  preparing  for  the 
other.  The  Red  Fisherman  was  busy  in  an 
outer  room  grinding  the  swords,  which  are 
made  as  sharp  as  razors.  In  the  large  room 
some  forty  or  fifty  students  were  walking  about, 
while  the  parties  were  preparing.  This  was 
done  by  taking  off  the  coat  and  vest  and  bind- 
ing a  great  thick  leather  garment  on,  which 
reached  from  the  breast  to  the  knees,  completely 
protecting  the  body.  They  then  put  on  a 
leather  glove  reaching  nearly  to  the  shoulder, 
tied  a  thick  cravat  around  the  throat,  and  drew 
on  a  cap  with  a  large  vizor.  This  done,  they 
were  walked  about  the  room  a  short  time,  the 
seconds  holding  out  their  arms  to  strengthen 
them ;  their  faces  all  this  time  betrayed  consid- 
erable anxiety. 

All  being  ready,  the  seconds  took  their  sta- 
tions immediately  behind  them,  each  armed  with 
a  sword,  and  gave  the  words:  "ready — bind 
your  weapons — loose!"  They  instantly  sprang 
at  each  other,  exchanged  two  or  three  blows, 
when  the  seconds  cried  "halt!"  and  struck  their 
swords  up.  Twenty-four  rounds  of  this  kind 
ended  the  duel,  without  either  being  hurt, 
though  the  cap  of  one  of  them  was  cut  through 
and  his  forehead  grazed.  All  their  duels  do  not 
end  so  fortunately,  however,  as  the  frightful 
scars  on  the  faces  of  many  of  those  present, 


116  VIEWS   A-FOOT. 

testified.  It  is  a  gratification  to  know  that  but 
a  small  portion  of  the  students  keep  up  this 
barbarous  custom.  The  great  body  is  oppos-d 
to  it;  in  Heidelberg,  four  societies,  comprising 
more  than  one  half  the  students,  have  1  '-en 
formed  against  it.  A  strong  desire  for  such  a 
reform  seems  to  prevail,  and  the  custom  will 
probably  be  totally  discontinued  in  a  short 
time. 

This  view  of  the  student-life  was  very  interest- 
ing to  me;  it  appeared  in  a  much  better  light 
than  I  had  been  accustomed  to  view  it.  Their 
peculiar  customs,  except  duelling  and  drinking, 
of  course,  may  be  the  better  tolerated  when  we 
consider  their  effect  on  the  liberty  of  Germany. 
It  is  principally  through  them  that  a  free  spirit 
is  kept  alive;  they  have  ever  been  foremost  to 
rise  up  for  their  Fatherland,  and  bravest  in  its 
defence.  And  though  many  of  their  customs 
have  so  often  been  held  up  to  ridicule,  among 
no  other  class  can  one  find  warmer,  truer  or 
braver  hearts. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

CHRISTMAS  AND  NEW  YEAR  IX   GERMANY. 

Jan.  2,  1845. — I  have  lately  been  computing 
how  much  my  travels  have  cost  me  up  to  the 
present  time,  and  how  long  I  can  remain  abroad 
to  continue  the  pilgrimage,  with  my  present 
expectations.  The  result  has  been  most  en- 
couraging to  my  plan.  Before  leaving  home  I 
wrote  to  several  gentlemen  who  had  visited 
Europe,  requesting  the  probable  expense  of 
travel  and  residence  abroad.  They  sent  different 
accounts;  E.  Joy  Morris  said  I  must  calculate 


MT  EXPENSES.  117 

to  spend  at  least  $1,500  a  year;  another 
suggested  $1,000,  and  the  most  moderate  of  all 
said  that  it  was  impossible  to  live  in  Europe  a 
year  on  less  than  $500.  _  Now,  six  months  have 
elapsed  since  I  left  home — six  months  of  greater 
pleasure  and  profit  than  any  year  of  my  former 
life — and  my  expenses  in  full,  amount  to  $130! 
This,  however,  nearly  exhausts  the  limited 
sum  with  which  I  started,  but  through  the  kind- 
ness of  the  editorial  friends  who  have  been  pub- 
lishing my  sketches  of  travel,  I  trust  to  receive 
a  remittance  shortly.  Printing  is  a  business 
attended  with  so  little  profit  here,  as  there  are 
already  so  many  workmen,  that  it  is  almost  use- 
less for  a  stranger  to  apply.  Besides,  after  a 
to  ugh  grapple,  I  am  just  beginning  to  master  the 
language,  and  it  seems  so  necessary  to  devote 
every  minute  to  study,  that  I  would  rather  un- 
dergo some  privation,  than  neglect  turning 
these  fleeting  hours  into  gold,  for  the  miser 
Memory  to  stow  away  in  the  treasure-vaults  of 
the  mind. 

We  have  lately  witnessed  the  most  beautiful 
and  interesting  of  all  German  festivals,  Christ- 
mas. This  is  here  peculiarly  celebrated.  About 
the  commencement  of  December  the  Christmarkt 
or  fair,  was  opened  in  the  Rcemerberg,  and 
has  continued  to  the  present  time.  The  booths 
decorated  with  green  boughs,  were  filled 
with  toys  of  various  kinds,  among  which  during 
the  first  days  the  figure  of  St.  Nicholas  was  con- 
spicuous. There  were  bunches  of  wax  candles  to 
illuminate  the  Christmas  tree,  gingerbread  with 
printed  mottoes  in  poetry,  beautiful  little 
earthenware,  basket-work,  and  a  wilderness 
of  playthings.  The  5th  of  December,  being 
Nicholas  evening,  the  booths  were  lighted  up, 
and  the  square  was  filled  with  boys,  running 
from  one  stand  to  another,  all  shouting  and 
talking  together  in  the  most  joyous  confusion. 
Nurses  were  going-  around,  carrying  the  smaller 


118  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

children  in  their  arms,  and  parents  bought 
presents  decorated  with  s] trip's  of  pine  and 
earned  them  away.  Some  of  the  shops  had 
beaucit'ul  toys,  as  for  instance,  a  whole  grocery 
store  in  miniature,  with  barrels,  boxes  and 
drawers,  all  filled  with  sweetmeats,  a  kitchen 
with  a  stove  and  all  suitable  utensils,  which 
could  really  be  used,  and  sets  of  dishes  of  tin- 
niest diminutive  patterns.  All  was  a  scene  of 
activity  and  jo.yous  feeling. 

Many  of  the  tables  had  bundles  of  rods  with 
gilded  bands,  which  were  to  be  used  that  evening 
by  the  persons  who  represented  St.  Nicholas.  In 
the  family  with  whom  we  reside,  one  of  our 
German  friends  dressed  himself  very  comically, 
with  a  mask,  fur  robe  and  long  tapering  cap. 
He  came  in  with  a  bunch  of  rods  and  a  sack, 
with  a  broom  for  a  sceptre.  After  we  all  had 
received  our  share  of  the  beating,  he  threw  the 
contents  of  his  bag  on  the  table,  and  while  we 
were  scrambling  for  the  nuts  and  apples,  gave 
us  many  smart  raps  over  the  fingers.  In  many 
families  the  children  are  made  to  say.  ''I  thank 
you,  Herr  Nicolaus,"  and  the  rods  are  hung  up 
in  the  room  till  Christmas  to  keep  them  in 
good  behavior.  This  was  only  a  forerunner  of 
the  Christ-kindchen's  coming.  The  Nicolaus  is 
the  punishing  spirit,  the  Christ-kindchen  the 
rewarding  one. 

When  this  time  was  over,  we  all  began  prepar- 
ing secretly  our  presents  for  Christmas.  Every 
day  there  were  consultations  about  the  things 
which  should  be  obtained.  It  was  so  arranged 
that  all  should  interchange  presents,  but  nobody 
must  know  beforehand  what  he  would  receive. 
What  pleasure  there  was  in  all  these  secret 
purchases  and  preparations!  Scarcely  anything 
was  thought  or  spoken  of  but  Christmas,  and 
every  day  the  consultations  became  morenumer- 
ous  and  secret.  The  trees  were  bought  some- 
time beforehand,  but  as  we  were  to  witness  the 


THE  CHRISTMAS  TREE.  119 

festival  for  the  first  time,  we  were  not  allowed 
to  see  them  prepared,  in  order  that  the  effect 
in iii'lit  be  as  great  as  possible.  The  market  in 
tin-  RfiMuerberg  Square  grew  constantly  larger 
and  more  brilliant.  Kvery  night  it  was  lit  up 
with  lamps  and  thronged  with  people.  Quite  a 
forest  sprang  up  in  the  street  before  our  door. 
The  old  stone  house  opposite,  with  the  traces  of 
so  many  cenl M: -ies  on  its  dark  face,  seemed  to 
stand  in  th;?  midst  of  a  garden.  It  was  a  pleas- 
ure to  go  out  every  evening  and  see  the  children 
rushing  to  and  fro,  shouting  and  seeking  out 
toys  iVoin  the  booths,  and  talking  all  the  time 
of  the  Christmas  that  was  so  near.  The  poor 
people  went  by  with  their  little  presents  hid 
under  their  cloaks,  lest  their  children  might  see 
them ;  every  heart  was  glad  and  every  counte- 
nance  wore  a  smile  of  secret  pleasure. 

Finally  the  day  before  Christmas  arrived. 
The  streets  were  so  full  I  could  hardly  make  my 
way  through,  and  the  sale  of  trees  went  on  more 
rapidly  than  ever.  These  were  commonly 
branches  of  pine  or  fir,  set 'upright  in  a  little 
miniature  garden  of  moss.  When  the  lamps 
were  lighted  at  night,  our  street  had  the  appear- 
a nee  of  an  illuminated  garden.  We  were  pro- 
hibited from  entering  the  rooms  up  stairs  in 
which  the  grand  ceremony  was  to  take  place, 
being  obliged  to  take  our  seats  in  those  arranged 
for  the  guests,  and  wait  with  impatience  the 
hour  when  Christ -^indchen  should  call.  Sev- 
eral relations  of  tho  family. came,  and  what  was 
more  agreeable,  they  brought  with  them  five  or 
six  children.  I  was  anxious  to  see  how  they 
would  view  the  ceremony.  Finally,  in  the  mid- 
dle of  an  interesting  conversation,  we  heard  the 
bell  ringing  up  stairs.  We  all  started  up  and 
made  for  the  door.  I  ran  up  the  ^teps  with  the 
children  at  my  heels,  and  at  the  top  met  a  blaze 
of  light  coming  from  the  open  door,  that  dazzled 
me.  In  each  room  stood  a  great  table,  oil  which 


120  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

the  presents  were  arranged,  amid  flowers  and 
wreaths.  From  the  centre,  rose  the  beautiful 
Christinas  tree  covered  with  wax  tapers  to  the 
very  top,  which  made  it  nearly  as  light  as  day, 
while  every  bough  was  hung  with  sweetmeats 
and  gilded  nuts.  The  children  ran  shouting 
around  the  table,  hunting  their  presents,  while 
the  older  persons  had  theirs  pointed  out  to  them. 
I  had  quite  a  little  library  of  German  authors 
as  my  share ;  and  many  of  the  others  received 
quite  valuable  gifts. 

But  how  beautiful  was  the  heart-felt  joy  that 
shone  on  every  countenance !  As  each  one  dis. 
covered  he  embraced  the  givers,  and  all  was  a 
scene  of  the  purest  feelings.  It  is  a  glorious 
feast,  this  Christmas  time !  What  a  chorus  from 
happy  hearts  went  upon  that  evening  to  Heaven ! 
Full  of  poetry  and  feeling  and  glad  associations, 
it  is  here  anticipated  with  joy,  and  leaves  a 
pleasant  memory  behind  it.  We  may  laugh  at 
such  simple  festivals  at  home,  and  prefer  to 
shake  ourselves  loose  from  every  shackle  that 
bears  the  rust  of  the  Past,  but  we  would  cer- 
tainly be  happier  if  some  of  these  beautiful  old 
customs  were  better  honored.  They  renew  the 
bond  of  feeling  between  families  and  friends, 
and  strengthen  their  kindly  sympathy;  even 
life-long  friends  require  occasions  of  this  kind  to 
freshen  the  wreath  that  binds  them  together. 

New  Year's  Eve  is  also  favored  with  a  peculiar 
celebration  in  Germany.  Everybody  remains  up 
and  makes  himself  merry  till  midnight.  The 
Christmas  trees  are  again  lighted,  and  while  the 
tapers  are  burning  down,  the  family  play  for 
articles  which  they  have  purchased  and  hung  on 
the  boughs.  It  is  so  arranged  that  each  one  shall 
win  as  much  as  he  gives,  which  change  of  arti- 
cles makes  much  amusement.  One  of  the  ladies 
rejoiced  in  the  possession  of  a  red  silk  handker- 
chief and  a  cake  of  soap,  while  a  cup  and  saucer 
and  a  pair  of  scissors  fell  to  my  lot!  As  mid- 


NEW  TEAR'S  EVE.  121 

night  drew  near,  it  was  lender  in  the  streets,  and 
companies  of  people,  some  of  them  singing  in 
chorus,  passed  by  on  their  way  to  the  Zeil. 
Finally  three-quarters  struck,  the  windows  were 
opened  and  every  one  waited  anxiously  for  the 
dock  to  strike.  At  the  first  sound,  such  a  cry 
Mrose  as  one  may  imagine,  when  thirty  or  forty 
thousand  persons  all  set  their  lungs  going  at 
once  Every  body  in  the  house,  in  the  street, 
over  the  wholecity,  shouted,  "Prosst  Neu  Jahr!" 
[n  fjiihiiics,  all  the  members  embrace  each  other, 
with  wisehefl  of  happiness  for  the  new  year.  Then 
the  windows  are  thrown  open,  and  they  cry  to 
their  neighbors  or  those  passing  by. 

After  we  )>ad  exchanged  congratulations,  Den- 
nett, B and  I  set  out  for  the  Zeil.    Thestreets 

were  full  of  people,  shouting  to  one  another  and 
to  those  standing  at  the  open  windows.  We 
failed  not  to  cry, '  Prosst  Neu  Jahr!"  wherever 
we  saw  a  damsel  afc  the  window,  and  the  words 
came  back  to  us  more  musically  than  we  sent 
them.  Along  the  ftoil  the  spectacle  was  most 
singular.  The  great  wide  street  was  filled  with 
companies  of  men  marching  up  and  down,  whiJe 
from  the  mass  rang  up  one  deafening,  unending 
shout,  that  seemed  to  phree  the  black  sky  above. 
The  whole  scene  looked  stranger  and  wilder  from 
the  flickering  light  of  the  swinging  lamps,  and  ) 
could  not  help  thinkingit  pi'ist  resemble  anight 
in  Paris  during  the  French  Revolution.  We 
joined  the  crowd  and  used  our  lungs  as  well  a? 
any  of  them.  For  some  time  after  we  returned 
home,  companies  passed  by,  shaping  "with  u* 
'tis  ever  so !"  but  at  three  o'clock"  ail  ^vv»  again 
silent. 


122  VIEWS  A- FOOT 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

WINTER  IN  FRANKFORT— A  I  All;.  AN  INUNDATION 
AND  A  FIRE. 

After  New  Year,  the  Main,  just  above  the  city. 
and  the  lakes  in  the  promenades,  were  frozen 
over.  The  ice  was  tried  by  the  police,  mid  hav- 
ing been  found  of  sufficient  thickness,  to  the 
great  joy  01  the  schoolboys,  permission  was 
given  to  skate.  The  lakes  AY  ere  soon  covered 
with  merry  skaters,  and  every  afternoon  the 
banks  were  crowded  with  spectators.  It  was  a 
lively  sight  to  see  two  or  three  hundred  persons 
darting  about,  turning  and  crossing  like  a  flock 
of  crows,  while,  by  means  of  arm-chairs  mounted 
on  runners,  the  ladies  were  enabled  to  join  in  the 
sport,  and  whirl  around  among  them.  Some  of 
the  broad  meadows  near  the  city,  which  were 
covered  with  water,  were  the  resort  of  the  schools. 
I  went  there  clten  in  my  walks,  and  always 
found  two  or  three  schools,  with  the  teachers, 
all  skating  together,  and  playing  their  winter 
games  on  the  ice.  I  have  often  seen  them  on  the 
meadows  along  the  Main;  the  teachers  generally 
made  quite  as  much  noise  as  the  scholars  in  their 
sports. 

In  the  Art  Institute  I  saw  the  picture  of  "  Huss 
before  the  Council  of  Constance."  by  the  painter 
Lessing.  It  contains  upwards  of  twenty  figures. 
The  artist  has  shown  the  greatest  skill  in  theex- 
pression  and  grouping  of  these.  liishops  mid 
Cardinals  in  their  splendid  robes  are  seated 
around  a  table,  covered  with  parchment  folios, 
and  before  them  Mauds  Huss  alone.  His  fare. 
pale  and  thin  with  long  imprisonment,  he  has 


THE  ESCtiERNHElM  TOWER  123 

lain  one  hand  on  his  breast,  while  with  the  other 
he  has  grasped  one  of  the  volumes  on  the  table; 
there  is  an  air  of  majesty,  of  heavenly  serenity 
on  his  lofty  forehead  and  calm  eye.  One  feels  in- 
stinctively that  he  has  truth  on  his  side.  There 
can  be  no  deception,  no  falsehood  in  those  noble 
features.  The  three  Italian  cardinals  before  him 
appear  to  be  full  of  passionate  rage ;  the  bishop 
in  front,  who  holds  the  imperial  pass  given  to 
Huss,  looks  on  with  an  expression  of  scorn,  and 
the  priests  around  have  an  air  of  mingled  curi- 
osity and  hatred.  There  is  one,  however,  in 
whose  mild  features  and  tearful  eye  is  expressed 
sympathy  and  pity  for  the  prisoner.  It  is  said 
this  picture  has  had  a  great  effect  upon  Catholics 
who  have  seen  it,  in  softening  the  bigotry  with 
which  they  regarded  the  early  reformers ;  and  if 
so,  it  is  a  triumphant  proof  how  much  art  can 
effect  in  the  cause  of  truth  and  humanity.  I  \va  s 
much  interested  in  a  cast  of  the  statue  of  St. 
George,  by  the  old  Italian  sculptor  Donatello. 
It  is  a  figure  full  of  youth  and  energy,  with  a 
countenance  that  seems  to  breathe.  Donatello 
was  the  teacher  of  Michael  Angelo,  and  when  the 
young  sculptor  was  about  setting  off  for  Eome, 
he  showed  him  the  statue,  his  favorite  work. 
Michael  gazed  at  it  long  and  intensely,  and  at 
length,  on  parting,  said  to  Donatello,  "  It  wants 
but  one  thing."  The  artist  pondered  long  over 
this  expression,  for  he  could  not  imagine  in  what 
could  fail  the  matchless  figure.  At  length,  after 
many  years,  Michael  Angelo,  in  the  noon  of  his 
renown,  visited  the  death-bed  of  his  old  master. 
Donatello  begged  to  know,  before  he  died,  what 
was  wanting  to  his  St.  George.  Angelo  an- 
swered "the  gift  of  speech!"  and  a  smile  of  tri- 
umph lighted  the  old  man's  face,  as  he  closed  his 
eyes  forever. 

The  Eschernheim  Tower,  at  the  entrance  of 
one  of  the  city  gates,  is  universally  admired  by 
strangers,  on  account  of  its  picturesque  appear- 


124  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

ance,  overgrown  with  ivy  and  terminated  by  the 
little  pointed  turrets,  which  one  sees  so  often  in 
(in-many,  on  buildings  three  or  four  centuries 
old.  There  are  five  other  watch-towers  of  similar 
form,  which  stand  on  different  sides  of  the  city, 
at  the  distance  of  a  mile  or  two,  and  generally 
upon  an  eminence  overlooking  the  country. 
They  were  erected  several  centuries  ago,  to  dis- 
cern from  afar  the  approach  of  an  enemy,  and 
protect  the  caravans  of  merchants,  which  at 
that  time  travelled  from  city  to  city,  from  the 
attacks  of  robbers.  The  Eschernheim  Tower  is 
interesting  from  another  circumstance,  which, 
whether  true  or  not,  is  universally  believed. 
When  Frankfort  was  under  the  sway  of  a  prince, 
a  Swiss  hunter,  for  some  civil  offence,  was  con- 
demned to  die.  He  begged  his  life  from  the 
prince,  who  granted  it  only  om  condition  that  he 
should  fire  the  figure  9  with  his  rifle  through  the 
vane  of  this  tower.  He  agreed,  and  did  it ;  and 
at  the  present  time,  one  can  distinguish  a  rude  9 
on  the  vane,  as,  if  cut  with  bullets,  while  two  or 
three  marks  at  the  side  appear  to  be  from  shots 
that  failed. 

The  promise  of  spring  which  lately  visited  us, 
was  not  destined  for  fulfilment.  Shortly  after- 
wards it  grew  cold  again,  with  a  succession  of 
snows  and  sharp  northerly  winds.  Such  weather 
at  the  commencement  of  spring  is  not  uncom- 
mon at  home ;  but  here  they  say  there  has  not 
been  such  a  winter  known  for  150  years.  In 
the  north  of  Prussia  many  persons  have  .been 
starved  to  death  on  account  of  provisions  be- 
coming scarce.  Among  the  Hartz  also,  the 
suffering  is  very  great.  We  saw  nothing  of  the 
misery  even  here.  It  was  painful  to  walk 
through  the  streets  and  see  so  ninny  faces  bear- 
ing plainly  the  marks  of  want,  so  many  pale, 
hollow-eyed  crenturcs,  with  suffering  written  on 
every  feature.  We  were  assailed  with  petitions 
for  help  which  could  not  be  relieved,  though  it 


THE  FRANKFORT  FAIR.  125 

pained  and  saddened  the  heart  to  deny.  The 
women,  too,  labor  like  brutes,  day  after  day. 
Many  of  them  appear  cheerful  and  contented, 
and  are  no  doubt,  tolerably  happy,  for  the  Ger- 
mans have  all  true,  warm  hearts,  and  are  faith- 
ful to  one  another,  as  far  as  poverty  will  permit; 
but  one  cannot  see  old,  gray-headed  women, 
carrying  loads  on  their  heads  as  heavy  as  them- 
selves, exposed  to  all  kinds  of  weather  and  work- 
ing from  morning  till  night,  without  pity  and 
indignation. 

So  unusually  severe  has  been  the  weather,  that 
the  deer  and  hares  in  the  mountains  near,  came 
nearly  starved  and  tamed  down  by  hunger,  into 
the  villages  to  hunt  food.  The  people  fed  them 
every  day,  and  also  carried  grain  into  the  fields 
for  the  partridges  and  pheasants,  who  flew  up 
to  them  like  domestic  fowls.  The  poor  ravens 
made  me  really  sorry;  some  lay  dead  in  the 
fields  and  many  came  into  the  city  perfectly 
tame,  flying  along  the  Main  with  wings  hardly 
strong  enough  to  bear  up  their  skeleton  bodies. 
The  storks  came  at  the  usual  time,  but  went 
back  again.  I  hope  the  year's  blessing  has  not 
departed  with  them,  according  to  the  old  Ger- 
man superstition. 

March  26. — AVe  have  hopes  of  spring  at  last. 
Three  days  ago  the  rain  began  and  has  con- 
tinued with  little  intermission  till  now.  The  air 
is  warm,  the  snow  goes  fast,  and  everything 
seems  to  announce  that  the  long  winter  is  break- 
ing up.  The  Main  rises  fast,  and  goes  by  the 
city  like  an  arrow,  whirling  large  masses  of  ice 
upon  the  banks.  The  hills  around  are  coming 
out  from  under  the  snow,  and  the  lilac-buds  in 
the  promenades  begin  to  expand  for  the  second 
time. 

The  Fair  has  now  commenced  in  earnest,  and 
it  is  a  most  singular  and  interesting  sight.  The 
open  squares  are  fffled  with  booths,  leaving  nar- 
row streets  between  them,  across  which  canvas 


128  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

is  spread.  Every  booth  is  open  and  filled  with  a 
dazzling  display  of  wares  of  all  kinds.  M<-!- 
chants  assemble  from  all  parts  of  Europe.  Tlio 
Bohemians  come  with  their  gorgeous  crystal 
ware;  the  Nurembergers  with  their  toys,  quaint 
and  fanciful  as  the  old  city  itself;  men  from  the 
Thuringiau  forest,  with  minerals  and  canes,  and 
traders  from  Berlin,  Vienna,  Paris  and  Switzer- 
land, with  dry  goods  and  wares  of  all  kinds. 
Near  the  Exchange  are  two  or  three  companies 
of  Tyrolese,  who  attract  much  of  my  attention. 
Their  costume  is  exceedingly  picturesque.  The 
men  have  all  splendid  manly  figures,  and  honor 
and  bravery  are  written  on  their  countenances. 
One  of  the  girls  is  a  really  handsome  mountain 
maiden,  and  with  her  pointed,  broad-brimmed 
black  hat,  as  romantic  looking  as  one  could  de- 
sire. The  musicians  have  arrived,  and  we  are 
entertained  the  whole  day  long  by  wandering 
bands,  some  of  whom  play  finely.  The  i 
which  is  also  the  favorite  company,  is  fro/n  Sax- 
ony, called  "The  Mountain  Boys."  They  are 
now  playing  in  our  street,  and  while  I  write,  one 
of  the  beautiful  choruses  from  Norrna  comes  up 
through  the  din  of  the  crowd.  In  fact,  music  is 
heard  over  the  whole  city,  and  the  throngs  that 
fill  every  street  with  all  sorts  of  faces  and 
dresses,  somewhat  relieve  the  monotony  that 
was  beginning  to  make  Frankfort  tiresome. 

We  have  an  ever- varied  and  interesting  scene 
from  our  window.  Besides  the  motley  crowd  of 
passers-by,  there  are  booths  and  tables  thick  be- 
low. One  man  in  particular  is  busily  engaged  in 
selling  his  store  of  blacking  in  the  auction  style, 
in  a  manner  that  would  do  credit  to  a  real 
Down-easter.  He  has  flaming  certificates  exhib- 
ited, and  prefaces  his  calls  to  buy  with  a  high- 
sounding  description  of  its  wonderful  qualities. 
He  has  a  bench  in  front,  where  lie  tests  it  on  the 
shoes  of  his  customers,  or  if  none  of  these  are 
disposed  to  try  it,  he  rubs  it  on  his  own,  whicl* 


AN  INUNDA  TION.  127 

shine  like  mirrors.  So  he  rattles  on  with  amaz- 
ing fluency  in  French,  German  and  Italian,  and 
this,  with  his  black  beard  and  mustache  and  his 
polite,  graceful  manner,  keeps  a  crowd  of  cus- 
tomers around  him,  so  that  the  wonderful 
blacking  goes  off  as  fast  as  he  can  supply  it. 

April  6. — Old  Winter's  gates  are  shut  close  be- 
hind us,  and  the  sun  looks  down  with  his  sum- 
mer countenance.  The  air,  after  the  long  cold 
rain,  is  like  that  of  Paradise.  All  things  are 
gay  and  bright,  and  everybody  is  in  motion. 
Spring  commenced  with  yesterday  in  earnest, 
and  lo!  before  night  the  roads  were  all  dry 
and  fine  as  if  there  had  been  no  rain  for  a 
month ;  and  the  gardeners  dug  and  planted  in 
ground  which,  eight  days  before,  was  covered 
with  snow ! 

After  having  lived  through  the  longest  winter 
here,  for  one  hundred  and  fifty  years,  we  were 
destined  to  witness  the  greatest  flood  for  sixty, 
ami  little  lower  than  any  within  the  last  three 
hundred  yc-ars.  On  the  28th  of  March  the  river 
oviM-tlooued  the  high  pier  along  the  Main,  and 
rising  higher  arid  higher,  began  to  come  into 
the  gates  and  alleys.  Before  night  the  whole 
bank  was  covered  and  the  water  intruded  into 
some  of  the  booths  in  the  Romerberg.  When  1 
went  there  the  next  morning,  it  was  a  sorrow- 
ful sight.  Persons  were  inside  the  gate  with 
boats;  so  rapidly  had  it  risen,  that  many  of  the 
merchants  had  no  time  to  move  their  wares, 
and  must  suffer  great  damage.  They  were  busy 
rescuing  what  property  could  be  seized  in  the 
haste,  and  constructing  passages  into  the 
houses  which  were  surrounded.  No  one  seemed 
to  think  of  buying  or  selling,  but  only  on  the 
best  method  to  escape  the  danger.  Along  the 
Main  it  was  still  worse.  From  the  measure,  it 
had  risen  seventeen  feet  above  its  usual  level, 
and  the  arches  of  the  bridge  were  filled  nearly  to 
the  top.  At  the  Upper-Main  gate,  every  thins: 


128  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

was  flooded — houses,  gardens,  workshops,  &c. ; 
the  water  had  .even  overrun  the  meadows  above 
and  attacked  the  city  from  behind,  so  that  a 
part  of  the  beautiful  promenades  lay  deep  under 
water.  On  the  other  side,  we  could  see  houses 
standing  in  it  up  to  the  roof.  It  came  up 
through  the  sewers  into  the  middle  of  Frank- 
fort; a  large  body  of  men  were  kept  at  work 
constructing  slight  bridges  to  walk  on,  and 
transporting  boats  to  places  where  they  were 
needed.  This  was  all  done  at  the  expense  of  the 
city;  the  greatest  readiness  was  everywhere 
manifested  to  render  all  possible  assistance.  In 
the  Fischergasse,  I  saw  them  taking  provisions 
to  the  people  in  boats;  one  man  even  fastened  a 
loaf  of  bread  to  the  end  of  a  broomstick  and 
reached  it  across  the  narrow  street  from  an  up- 
per story  window,  to  the  neighbor  opposite. 
News  came  that  Hausen,  a  village  towards  the 
Taunus,  about  two  miles  distant,  was  quite 
under  water,  and  that  the  people  clung  to  the 
roofs  and  cried  for  help;  but  it  was  fortunately 
false.  About  noon,  cannon  shots  were  heard, 
and  twenty  boats  were  sent  out  from  the  city. 
In  the  afternoon  I  ascended  the  tower  of  the 
Cathedral,  which  commands  a  wide  view  of  the 
valley,  up  and  down.  Just  above  the  city  the 
whole  plain  was  like  a  small  lake — between  two 
and  three  miles  wide.  A  row  of  new-built  houses 
stretched  into  it  like  a  long  promontory*,  and  in 
the  middle,  like  an  island,  stood  a  country-seat 
with  large  out-buildings.  The  river  sent  a  long 
arm  out  below,  that  reached  up  through  the 
meadows  behind  the  city,  as  if  to  clasp  it  all 
and  bear  it  away  together.  A  heavy  storm  was 
raging  along  the  whole  extent  of  the  Taunus; 
but  a  rainbow  stood  in  the  eastern  skj*.  I 
thought  of  its  promise,  and  hoped,  for  the  sake 
ot  the  hundreds  of  poor  people  who  were  suffer- 
ing by  tho  waters,  that  it  might  herald  their 


mg 

fell. 


RISE  OF  THE    WATERS.  129 

We  afterwards  went  over  to  Sachsenhausen, 
w-hieh  wan,  if  possible,  in  a  still  more  unfortu- 
nate condition.  The  water  had  penetrated  the 
passages  and  sewers,  and  from  these  leaped  and 
rushed  up  into  the  streets,  as  out  of  a  fountain. 
The  houses  next  to  the  Main,  which  were  first 
filled,  poured  torrents  out  of  the  doors  and 
windows  into  the  street  below.  These  people 
were  nearly  all  poor,  and  could  ill  afford  the  loss 
of  time  and  damage  of  property  it  occasioned 
them.  The  stream  was  filled  with  wood  and 
boards,  and  even  whole  roofs,  with  the  tiles  on, 
went  floating  down.  The  bridge  was  crowded 
with  people;  one  saw  everywhere  mournful 
countenances,  and  heard  lamentations  over  the 
catastrophe.  After  sunset,  a  great  cloud,  filling 
half  the  sky,  hung  above;  the  reflection  of  its 
glowing  crimson  tint,  joined  to  the  brown  hue 
of  the  water,  made  it  seem  like  a  river  of  fire. 

What  a  difference  a  little  sunshine  makes !  I 
could  have  forgotten  the  season  the  next  day, 
but  for  the  bare  trees  and  swelling  Main,  as  I 
threaded  my  way  through  the  hundreds  of 
people  who  thronged  its  banks.  It  was  that 
soft  warmth  that  comes  with  the  first  spring 
days,  relaxing  the  body  and  casting  a  dreamy 
hue  over  the  mind.  I  leaned  over  the  bridge  in 
the  full  enjoyment  of  it,  and  listening  to  the 
roaring  of  the  water  under  the  arches,  forgot 
every  thing  else  for  a  time.  It  was  amusing  to 
walk  up  and  down  the  pier  and  look  at  the 
countenances  passing  by,  while  the  phantasy 
was  ever  ready,  weaving  a  tale  for  all.  My 
favorite  Tyrolese  were  there,  and  I  saw  a  Greek 
leaning  over  the  stone  balustrade,  wearing  the 
red  cap  and  the  white  frock,  and  with  the  long 
dark  hair  and  fiery  eye  of  the  Orient.  I  could 
not  but  wonder,  as  he  looked  at  the  dim  hills  of 
the  Odenwald,  along  the  eastern  horizon, 
whether  they  called  up  in  his  mind  the  purple 
isles  of  hjs  native  Archipelago, 


130  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

The  general  character  of  a  nation  is  plainly 
st  a  mped  on  the  countenances  of  it.s  people.  One 
who  notices  the  faces  in  the  streets,  can  Boon 
distinguish,  by  the  glance  he  gives  in  going  by, 
the  Englishman  or  the  Frenchman  from  the 
German,  and  the  Christian  from  the  Jew.  Not 
less  striking  is  the  difference  of  expression  be- 
tween the  Germans  themselves;  and  in  places 
where  all  classes  of  people  are  drawn  together, 
it  is  interesting  to  observe  how  accurately  these 
distinctions  are  drawn.  The  boys  have  gen- 
erally handsome,  intelligent  faces,  and  like  all 
boys,  they  are  fall  of  life  and  spirit,  for  they 
knowr  nothing  of  the  laws  by  which  their 
country  is  chained  down,  and  would  not  care  for 
them,  if  they  did.  But  with  the  exception  of  the 
students,  who  talk,  at  least,  of  Liberty  and 
Right,  the  young  men  lose  this  spirit  and  at 
last  settle  down  into  the  calm,  cautious,  lethar- 
gic citizen.  One  distinguishes  an  Englishman, 
and  I  should  think  an  American,  also,  in  this 
respect,  very  easily ;  the  former,  moreover,  by  a 
certain  cold  stateliness  and  reserve.  There  is 
something,  however,  about  a  Jew,  whether 
English  or  German,  which  marks  him  from  all 
others.  However  different  their  faces,  there  is  a 
family  character  which  runs  through  the  whole 
of  them.  It  lays  principally  in  their  high  check- 
bones,  prominent  nose  and  thin,  compressed 
lips;  which,  especially  in  elderly  men,  gives  a 
peculiar  miserly  expression  that  is  unmistak- 
able. 

I  regret  to  say,  one  looks  almost  in  vain,  in 
Germany,  for  a  handsome  female  countenance. 
Here  and  there,  perhaps,  is  a  woman  with  regu- 
lar features,  but  that  intellectual  expression, 
which  gives  such  a  charm  to  the  most  common 
face,  is  wanting.  I  haA~e  seen  more  beautiful 
women  in  one  night,  in  a  public  assembly  in 
America,  than  during  the  seven  months  I  have 
been  on  the  Continent.  Some  of  the  young 


DESOLATION  BT  THE  FLOOD.  131 

Jewesses,  in  Frankfort,  are  considered  hand- 
some, but  their  features  soon  become  too 
strongly  marked.  In  a  public  walk  the  number 
of  positively  ugly  faces  is  really  astonishing. 

About  ten  o'clock  that  night,  I  heard  a  noise 
of  persons  running  in  the  street,  and  going  to 
the  Romerberg,  found  the  water  had  risen,  all  at 
once,  much  higher,  and  was  still  rapidly  increas- 
ing. People  were  setting  up  torches  and  length- 
ening the  rafts,  which  had  been  already  formed. 
The  lower  part  of  the  city  was  a  real  Venice — 
the  streets  were  full  of  boats  and  people  could 
even  row  about  in  their  own  houses ;  though  it 
was  not  quite  so  bad  as  the  flood  in  Georgia, 
where  they  went  up  stairs  to  bed  in  boats!  I 
went  to  the  bridge.  Persons  were  calling 
.around — "The  water!  the  water!  it  rises  con- 
tinually!" The  river  rushed  through  the  arches, 
foaming  and  dashing  with  a  noise  like  thunder, 
and  the  red  light  of  the  torches  along  the  shore 
cast  a  flickering  glare  on  the  troubled  waves. 
It  was  then  twenty-one  feet  above  its  usual  level. 
Men  were  busy  all  around,  carrying  boats  and 
ladders  to  the  places  most  threatened,  or  empty- 
ing cellars  into  which  it  was  penetrating.  The 
sudden  swelling  was  occasioned  by  the  coming 
down  of  the  floods  from  the  mountains  of 
Spessart. 

Part  of  the  upper  quay  cracked  next  morning 
and  threatened  to  fall  in,  and  one  of  the  pro- 
jecting piers  of  the  bridge  sunk  away  from  the 
main  body  three  or  four  inches.  In  Sachsenhau- 
sen  the  desolation  occasioned  by  the  flood  is  ab- 
solutely frightful;  several  houses  have  fallen 
into  total  ruin.  All  business  was  stopped  for 
the  day;  the  Exchange  was  even  shut  up.  As 
the  city  depends  almost  entirely  on  pumps  for 
its  supply  of  water,  and  those  were  filled  \\ith 
the  flood,  we  have  been  drinking  the  muddy  cur- 
rent of  the  Main  ever  since.  The  damage  to 
is  very  great.  The  fair  was  stopped  at 
5 


132  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

once,  and  the  loss  in  this  respect  alone,  must  De 
several  millions  of  florins.  The  water  began  to 
fall  on  the  1st,  and  has  now  sunk  about  ten 
feet,  so  that  most  of  the  houses  are  again  re- 
leased, though  in  a  bad  condition. 

Yesterday  afternoon,  as  I  was  sitting  in  my 
room,  writing,  I  heard  all  at  once  an  explosion 
like  a  carmon  in  the  street,  followed  by  loud  and 
continued  screams.  Looking  out  the  window, 
I  saw  the  people  rushing  by  with  goods  in  their 
arms,  some  wringing  their  hands  and  crying, 
others  running  in  all  directions.  Imagining 
that  it  was  nothing  less  than  the  tumbling 
down  of  one  of  the  old  houses,  we  ran  down  and 
saw  a  store  a  few  doors  distant  in  flames.  The 
windows  were  bursting  and  flying  out,  and  the 
mingled  mass  of  smoke  and  red  flame  readied 
half  way  across  the  street.  We  learned  after- 
wards it  was  occasioned  by  the  explosion  of  a 
jar  of  naphtha,  which  instantly  enveloped  the 
whole  room  in  fire,  the  people  barely  escaping  in 
time.  The  persons  who  had  booths  near  were 
standing  still  in  despair,  while  the  flames  were 
beginning  to  touch  their  property.  A  few 
butchers  who  first  came  up,  did  almost  every- 
thing. A  fire  engine  arrived  soon,  but  it  was 
ten  minutes  before  it  began  to  play,  and  by  that 
time  the  flames  were  coming  out  of  the  upper 
stories.  Then  the  supply  of  water  soon  failed, 
and  though  another  engine  came  up  shortly 
after,  it  was  sometime  before  it  could  be  put  in 
order,  so  that  by  the  time  they  got  fairly  to 
work,  the  fire  had  made  its  way  nearly  through 
the  house.  The  water  was  first  brought  in 
barrels  drawn  by  horses,  till  some  officer  came 
and  opened  the  fire  plug.  The  police  were  busy 
at  work  seizing  those  who  came  by  and  setting 
them  to  work;  and  as  the  alarm  had  drawn  a 
great  many  together,  they  at  last  began  to 
effect  something.  All  the  military  are  obliged 
to  be  out,  and  the  officers  appeared  eager  to  use 


A  FIRE.  133 

their  authority  while  they  could,  for  every  one 
was  ordering  and  commanding,  till  all  was  a 
scene  of  perfect  confusion  and  uproar.  I  could 
not  help  laughing  heartily,  so  ludicrous  did  the 
scene  appear.  There  were  little,  miserable  en- 
gines, not  much  bigger  than  a  hand-cart,  and 
looking  as  if  they  had  not  been  used  for  half  a 
century,  the  horses  running  backwards  and  for- 
wards, dragging  barrels  which  were  emptied 
into  tubs,  after  which  the  water  was  finally 
dipped  up  in  buckets,  and  emptied  into  the 
engines!  These  machines  can  only  play  into 
the  second  or  third  story,  after  which  the  hose 
was  taken  up  in  the  houses  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  street,  and  made  to  play  across.  After 
four  hours  the  fire  was  overcome,  the  house 
being  thoroughly  burnt  out;  it  happened  to 
have  double  fire  walls,  which  prevented  those 
adjoining  from  catching  easily. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  DEAD  AND  THE  DEAF  — MENDELSSOHN  THB 
COMPOSER. 

It  is  now  a  luxury  to  breathe.  These  spring 
days  are  the  perfection  of  delightful  weather 
Imagine  the  delicious  temperature  of  our  Indian 
summer  joined  to  the  life  and  freshness  of  spring, 
add  to  this  a  sky  of  the  purest  azure,  and  a 
breeze  filled  writh  the  odor  of  violets, — the  most 
exquisite  of  all  perfumes — and  you  have  some 
idea  of  it.  The  meadows  are  beginning  to 
bloom,  and  I  have  already  heard  the  larks  sing- 
ing high  up  in  the  sky.  Those  sacred  birds,  the 
«torks,  have  returned  and  taken  possession  of 


i34  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

their  old  nests  on  the  chimney-tops;  they  are 
sometimes  seen  walking  about  in  the  fields,  with 
a  very  grave  and  serious  ;iir.  ;is  if  Conscious  of 
the  estimation  in  which  they  are  held.  Every- 
body is  out  in  the  open  air ;  the  woods,  although 
they  still  look  wintry,  are  tilled  with  people,  and 
the  boatmen  on  the  Main  are  busy  ferrying  gay 
parties  across.  The  spring  has  been  so  loim  in 
coming,  that  all  are  determined  to  enjoy  it  well, 
while  it  lasts. 

We  visited  the  cemetery  a  few  days  ago.  The 
dead-house,  where  corpses  are  placed  in  the  hope 
of  resuscitation,  is  an  appendage  to  cemeteries 
found  only  in  Germany.  We  were  shown  in  a 
narrow  chamber,  on  each  side  of  which  were  six 
cells,  into  which  one  could  distinctly  see,  by 
means  of  a  large  plate  of  glass.  In  each  of 
these  is  a  bier  for  the  body,  directly  above  which 
hangs  a  cord,  having  on'  the  end  ten  thimbles, 
which  are  put  upon  the  fingers  of  the  corpse,  so 
that  the  slightest  motion  strikes  a  bell  in  the 
watchman's  room.  Lamps  are  lighted  at  night, 
and  in  winter  the  rooms  are  warmed.  In  the 
watchman's  chamber  stands  a  clock  with  a  dial- 
plate  of  twenty-four  hours,  and  opposite  every 
hour  is  a  little  plate,  which  can  only  be  moved 
two  minutes  before  it  strikes.  If  then  the  watch- 
man has  slept  or  neglected  his  duty  at  that 
time,  he  cannot  move  it  afterwards,  and  his 
neglect  is  seen  by  the  superintendent.  In  such  a 
case  he  is  severely  fined,  and  for  the  second  or 
third  offence  dismissed.  There  are  other  rooms 
adjoining,  containing  beds,  baths,  galvanic  bat- 
tery, &c.  Nevertheless,  they  say  there  has  been 
no  resuscitation  during  the  fifteen  years  it  has 
been  established. 

We  afterwards  went  to  the  end  of  the  cemetery 
to  see  the  bas-reliefs  of  Thorwaldsen,in  the  vault 
of  the  Bethmann  family.  They  are  three  in 
number,  representing  the  death  of  a  son  of  the 
present  banker,  Moritz  von  Bethmann,  who  was 


THE  FRANKFORT  CEMETERT.  135 

drowned  in  the  Arno  about  fourteen  years  ago. 
The  middle  one  represents  the  young  man 
drooping-  in  his  chair,  the  beautiful  Greek  Angel 
of  Death  standing  at  his  back,  with  one  arm 
over  his  shoulder,  while  his  younger  brother  is 
sustaining  him,  and  receiving  the  wreath  that 
drops  fro  in  his  sinking  hand.  The  young  woman 
who  showed  us  these,  told  us  of  Thorwaldsen's 
visit  to  Frankfort,  about  three  years  ago.  She 
described  him  as  a  beautiful  and  venerable  old 
man,  with  long  white  locks  hanging  over  his 
shoulders,  still  vigorous  and  active  for  his  years. 
There  seems  to  have  been  much  resemblance 
between  him  and  Dannecker — not  only  in  per- 
sonal appearance  and  character,  but  in  the  sim- 
ple and  classical  beauty  of  their  works. 

The  cemetery  contains  many  other  monu- 
ments; with  the  exception  of  one  or  two  by 
Launitz,  and  an  exquisite  Death  Angel  in  sand- 
stone, from  a  young  Frankfort  sculptor,  they 
are  not  remarkable.  The  common  tombstone 
is  a  white  wooden  cross;  opposite  the  entrance 
is  ;i  perfect  forest  of  them,  involuntarily  remind- 
ing one  of  a  company  of  ghosts,  with  out- 
stretched arms.  These  contain  the  names  of  the 
deceased  with  mottoes,  some  of  which  are  beau- 
tiful and  touching,  as  for  instance:  "Through 
darkness  unto  light;  "  "  Weep  not  for  her;  she 
is  not  dead,  but  sleepeth;"  "Slumber  swret!" 
etc  The  graves  are  neatly  bordered  with  grass, 
and  planted  with  flowers,  and  many  of  the 
crosses  have  withered  wreaths  hanging  upon 
them.  In  summer  it  is  a  beautiful  place;  in  fact, 
the  very  name  of  cemetery  in  German — Friedhof 
or  Court  of  Peace — takes  a  way  the  idea  of  death; 
the  beautiful  figure  of  .the  youth,  with  his 
inverted  torch,  makes  one  think  of  the  grave 
only  as  a  place  of  repose. 

On  our  way  back  we  stopped  at  the  Institute 
for  the  Deaf;  for  by  1lic  new  method  of  teaching 
they  are  no  longer  dumb.  It  is  a  handsome 


136  VIEWS   A-FOOT. 

building  in  the  gardens  skirting  the  city.    We 
applied  and  on  learning  we  were  strangers,  they 

fave  us  permission  to  enter.  On  finding  we  were 
mericans,  the  instructress  immediately  spoke 
of  Dr.  Howe,  who  had  visited  the  Institute  a 
year  or  t>vo  before,  and  was  much  pleased  to  find 
that  Mr.  Dennett  was  acquainted  with  him.  She 
took  us  into  a  room  where  about  fifteen  small 
children  were  assembled,  and  addressing  one  of 
the  girls,  said  in  a  distinct  tone:  ''These  gentle- 
men are  from  America;  the  deaf  children  there 
speak  with  their  fingers — canst  thou  speak  so?  " 
To  which  tho  child  answered  distinctly ,  but  with 
some  effort:  ''No,  we  speak  with  our  mouths." 
She  then  spoke  to  several  others  with  the  same 
success;  one  of  the  boys  in  particular,  articu- 
lated with  astonishing  success.  It  was  interest- 
ing to  watch  their  countenances,  which  were 
alive  with  eager  attention,  and  to  see  the 
apparent  efforts  they  made  to  utter  the  words. 
They  spoke  in  a  monotonous  tone,  slowly  and 
deliberately,  bat  their  voices  had  a  strange, 
sepulchral  noubd,  which  was  at  first  unpleasant 
to  the  ear.  I  put  one  or  two  questions  to  a  lit- 
tle boy,  which  he  answered  quite  readily ;  as  I 
was  a  foreigner,  this  was  the  best  test  that  could 
be  given  of  the  success  of  the  method.  We  con- 
versed afterwards  with  the  direct  or,  who  received 
us  kindly,  and  appointed  a  day  for  us  to  come 
and  witness  th^  system  more  fully.  He  s-poke  of 
Dr.  Howe  and  Horace  Mann,  of  Boston,  and 
seemed  to  take  a  great  interest  in  the  introduc- 
tion of  his  system  in  America. 

We  went  again  at  the  appointed  time,  and  as 
their  drawing  teacher  was  there,  we  had  an 
opportunity  of  looking  over  their  sketches, 
which  were  excellent.  The  director  showed  us 
the  manner  of  teaching  them,  with  a  looking- 
^l;iss,  in  which  they  were  shown  the  different 
positions  of  the  organs  of  the  mouth,  and  after- 
wards made  to  feel  the  vibrations  of  the  throat 


A  DEAF  SCULPTOR.  135 

and  breast,  produced  by  the  sound.  He  toot 
one  of  the  youngest  scholars,  covered  her  eyes, 
and  placing  her  hand  upon  his  throat,  articu- 
lated the  second  sound  of  A.  She  followed  him. 
making  the  sound  softer  or  louder  as  he  did. 
All  the  consonants  were  made  distinctly,  bj 
placing  her  hand  before  his  mouth.  Their  exer* 
cises  in  reading,  speaking  with  one  another,  and 
writing  from  dictation,  succeeded  perfectly.  He 
treated  them  all  like  his  own  children,  and 
sought  by  jesting  and  playing,  to  make  the  exer- 
cise appear  as  sport.  They  call  him  father  and 
appear  to  be  much  attached  to  him. 

One  of  the  pupils,  about  fourteen  years  old, 
interested  me  through  his  history.  He  and  his 
sister  were  found  in  Sachsenhausen,  by  a  Frank- 
fort merchant,  in  a  horrible  condition.  Their 
mother  had  died  about  two  years  and  a  half 
before,  and  during  all  that  time  their  father  had 
neglected  llieni  till  they  were  near  dead  through 
privation  and  tilth.  The  boy  was  placed  in  this 
Institute,  and  the  girl  in  that  of  the  Orphans, 
lie  soon  began  to  show  a  talent  for  modelling 
figures,  and  for  some  time  he  has  been  taking 
lessons  of  the  sculptor  Launitz.  I  saw  a  beau- 
tiful copy  of  a  bas-relief  of  Thorwaldsen  which 
he  made,  as  well  as  an  original,  very  interesting, 
from  its  illustration  of  his  history.  It  was  in 
two  parts ;  the  first  represented  himself  and  his 
sister,  kneeling  in  misery  before  a  ruined  family 
altar,  by  which  an  angel  was  standing,  who  took 
him  by  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  he  pointed 
to  his  benefactor,  standing  near.  The  other 
represented  the  two  kneeling  in  gratitude  before 
a  restored  altar,  on  which  was  the  anchor  of 
Hope.  From  above  streamed  down  a  light, 
where  two  angels  were  rejoicing  over  their  hap- 
piness. For  a  boy  of  fourteen,  deprived  of  oneof 
the  most  valuable  senses,  and  taken  from  such 
a  horrible  condition  of  life,  it  is  a  surprising  work 
and  gives  brilliant  hopes  for  his  future. 


138  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

We  went  lately  into  the  Roemberg,  to  see  the 
Kaisersaal  and  the  other  rooms  formerly  used 
by  the  old  Emperors  of  Germany,  and  their  Sen- 
ates. The  former  is  now  in  the  process  of  restor- 
ation. The  ceiling  is  in  thegorgeous illuminated 
style  of  the  middle  ages ;  along  each  side  a  re  row* 
of  niches  for  the  portraits  of  the  Emperors,  which 
have  beenpainted  by  the  best  artists  in  Berlin, 
Dresden,  Vienna  and  Munich.  It  is  remarkable 
that  the  number  of  the  old  niches  in  the  hall  should 
exactly  correspond  with  the  number  of  the  Ger- 
man Emperors,  so  that  the  portrait  of  the  Em- 
peror Francis  of  Austria,  who  was  the  last,  will 
close  the  long  rank  coming  down  from  Charle- 
magne. The  pictures,  or  at  least  such  of  them 
as  are  already  finished,  are  kept  in  another 
room ;  they  give  one  a  good  idea  of  the  changing 
styles  of  royal  costumes,  from  the  steel  shirt  and 
helmet  to  the  jewelled  diadem  and  velvet  robe. 
I  looked  with  interest  on  a  painting  of  Frederic 
Barbarossa,  by  Lessing,  and  mused  over  the 
popular  tradition  that  he  sits  with  his  paladins 
in  a  mountain  cave  under  the  Castle  of  Kyffhau- 
ser,  ready  to  come  forth  and  assist  his  Father- 
land in  the  hour  of  need.  There  was  the  sturdy 
form  of  Maximilian;  the  martial  Conrad:  and 
Ottos,  Siegfrieds  and  Sigismunds  in  plenty — 
many  of  whom  moved  a  nation  in  their  day,  but 
are  now  dust  and  forgotten. 

I  yesterday  visited  Mendelssohn,  the  celebrated 
composer.  Having  heard  some  of  his  music  this 
winter,  particularly  that  magnificent  creation, 
the  "  Walpurgisnacht,"  I  wished  to  obtain  his 
autograph  before  leavjng,  and  sent  a  note  for 
that  purpose.  He  sent  a  kind  note  in  answer, 
adding  a  chorus  out  of  the  Walpurgisnacht  from 
hi^>  own  hand.  After  this  I  could  not  repress  the 
desire  of  speaking  with  him.  He  received  me 
with  true  German  cordiality,  and  on  learning  I 
was  an  American,  spoke  of  having  been  invited 
to  attend  a  musical  festival  in  .New  York.  He 


. 


SETTING  OUT  AGAIN.  139 

invited  me  to  call  on  him  if  he  happened  to  be 
in  Leipsic  or  Dresden  when  we  should  pass 
through,  and  spoke  particularly  of  the  fine  mu- 
sic there.  I  have  rarely  seen  a  man  whose  coun- 
tenance bears  so  plainly  the  stamp  of  genius. 
He  has  a  glorious  dark  eye,  and  Byron's  expres- 
sion of  a  "dome  of  thought,"  could  never  be 
more  appropriately  applied  than  to  his  lofty  and 
intellectual  forehead,  the  marble  whiteness  and 
polish  of  which  are  heightened  by  the  raven  hue 
of  his  hair.  He  is  about  forty  years  of  age,  in 
the  noon  of  his  fame  and  the  full  maturity  of 
his  genius.  Already  as  a  boy  of  fourteen  he  com- 
posed an  opera,  which  was  played  with  much 
success  at  Berlin ;  he  is  now  the  first  living  com- 
poser of  Germany.  Moses  Mendelssohn,  the 
celebrated  Jewish  philosopher,  was  his  grand- 
father ;  and  his  father  now  living,  is  accustomed 
to  say  that  in  his  youth  he  was  spoken  of  as  the 
son  of  the  great  Mendelssohn  ;  now  he  is  known 
as  the  father  of  the  great  Mendelssohn ! 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

JOURNEY  ON  FOOT  PROM  FRANKFORT  TO  CASSEL. 

The  day  for  leaving  Frankfort  came  at  last, 
and  I  bade  adieu  to  the  gloomy,  antique,  but 
still  quaint  and  pleasant  city.  I  felt  like  leaving 
a  second  home,  so  much  had  the  memories  of 
many  delightful  hours  spent  there  attached  me 
to  it:  I  shall  long  retain  the  recollection  of  its 
dark  old  streets,  its  massive,  devil-haunted 
bridge  and  the  ponderous  cathedral,  telling  of 
the  times  of  the  Crusaders.  I  toiled  up  the  long 
hill  on  the  road  to  Friedberg,  and  from  the  tower 
at  the  top  took  a  last  look  at  the  distant  city, 


140  „        VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

0 

with  a  heart  heavier  than  the  knapsnrk  Avhose 
unaccustomed  Aveight  rested  uneasily  on  my 
shoulders.  Being  alone — starting  out  into  Hie 
Avide  Avorld,  where  as  yet  I  knew  no  one, — I  felt 
much  deeper  what  it  was  to  find  friends  in  a 
strange  land.  But  such  is  the  wanderer's  lot. 

We  had  determined  on  making  the  complete 
tour  of  Germany  on  foot,  and  in  order  to  vary 
ft  somewhat,  my  friend  and  I  proposed  taking 
different  routes  from  Frankfort  to  Leipsic.  II-1 
chose  a  circuitous  course,  by  way  of  Nurem- 
berg and  the  Tmiringian  forests;  while  I,  whose 
fancy  had  been  running  wild  with  (nethe's 
witches,  preferred  looking  on  the  gloom  and 

frandeur  of  the  rugged  Hartz.  We  both  left 
'rankfort  on  the  23d  of  April,  each  bearing  ;i 
letter  of  introduction  to  the  same  person  in 
Leipsic,  where  we  agreed  to  meet  in  fourteen 
days.  As  we  were  obliged  to  travel  as  cheaply  as 
possible,  I  started  with  but  seventy-nine  florins-, 
(a  florin  is  forty  cents  American)  well  knowing 
that  if  I  took  more,  I  should,  in  all  probability, 
spend  proportionabl^  more  also.  Thus,  armed 
with  my  passport,  pioperly  vised,  a  knapsack 
weighing  fifteen  pounds  and  a  cane  from  the  Ken- 
tucky Mammoth  Cave,  I  began  my  lonely  walk 
through  Northern  Germany. 

The  warm  weather  of  the  week  before  had 
brought  out  the  foliage  of  the  willows  and  other 
early  trees — violets  and  cowslips  were  springing 
up  in  the  meadows.  Keeping  along  the  foot  of 
the  Taunus,  I  passed  over  great  broad  hills, 
which  Avere  brown  Avith  the  spring  ploughing, 
and  by  sunset  reached  Friedberg — a  large  city, 
on  the  summit  of  a  hill.  The  next  morning, 
after  sketching  its  old,  baronial  castle,  I  crossed 
the  meadoAvs  to  Nauheim,  to  see  the  salt  springs 
there.  They  are  fifteen  in  number;  the  Avater, 
which  is  very  Avarm,  rushes  up  with  such  force  as 
to  leap  several  feet  aboA~e  the  earth.  The  build- 
ings made  for  evaporation  are  nearly  tAvo  miles 


VALLETS  OF  THE  LAHN.  141 

in  length ;  a  walk  along  the  top  gives  a  delight- 
ful view  of  the  surrounding  valleys.  After  reach- 
ing the  chaussee  again,  I  was  hailed  by  a  wander- 
ing journeyman,  or  handworker,  as  they  are 
called,  who  wanted  company.  As  I  had  con- 
cluded to  accept  all  offers  of  this  kind,  we  trudged 
along  together  very  pleasantly.  He  was  from 
Holstein,  on  the  borders  of  Denmark  and  was 
just  returning  home,  after  an  absence  of  six 
years,  having  escaped  from  Switzerland  after  the 
late  battle  of  Luzerne,  wrhich  he  had  witnessed. 
He  had  his  knapsack  and  tools  fastened  on  two 
wheels,  which  he  drew  after  him  quite  conven- 
iently. I  could  not  help  laughing  at  the  adroit 
manner  in  which  he  begged  his  way  along, 
through  every  village.  He  would  ask  me  to  go 
on  and  wait  for  him  at  the  other  end ;  after  a  few 
minutes  he  followed,  with  a  handful  of  small 
copper  money,  which  he  said  he  had  fought  for, 
— the  handwerker's  term  for  begged. 

We  passed  over  long  ranges  of  hills,  with  an 
occasional  view  of  the  Vogelsgebirge,  or  Bird's 
Mountains,  far  to  the  east.  I  knew  at  length, 
by  the  pointed  summits  of  the  hills,  that  we 
were  approaching  Giessen  and  the  valleys  of  the 
Lahn.  Finally,  two  sharp  peaks  appeared  in 
the  distance,  each  crowned  with  a  picturesque 
fortress,  while  the  spires  of  Giessen  rose  from  the 
valley  below.  Parting  from  my  companion,  I 
passed  through  the  city  without  stopping,  for  it 
wns  the  time  of  the  university  vacation,  and  Dr. 
Liebeg,  the  world-renowned  chemist,  whom  I 
desired  to  see,  Avas  absent. 

Crossing  a  hill  or  two,  I  came  down  into  the 
valley  of  the  Lahn,  which  flows  through  mead- 
ows of  the  brightest  green,  with  red-roofed  cot- 
tages nestled  among  gardens  and  orchards  upon 
its  banks.  The  women  here  wear  a  remarkable 
costume,  consisting  of  red  boddice  with  white 
sleeves,  and  a  dozen  skirts,  one  above  another, 
reaching  only  to  the  knees.  I  slept  again  at  a 


142  VrEWS  A- FOOT. 

little  village  among;  the  hills,  and  starred  early 
for  Marburg.  The  meadows  were  of  the  purest 
emerald,  through  which  the  stream  wouiifl  its 
way,  with  even  borders,  covered  to  the  water's 
edge  with  grass  so  smooth  and  velvety,  that  a 
fairy  might  have  danced  along  on  it  for 
miles  without  stumbling  over  an  uneven  tuft. 
This  valley  is  one  of  the  finest  districts  in  (ler- 
many.  I  thought,  as  I  saw  the  peaceful  inhabit- 
ants at  work  in  their  fields,  I  had  most  proba- 
bly, on  the  battlerfield  of  Brandywine,  walked 
over  the  bones  of  some  of  their  ancestors,  whom 
a  despotic  prince  had  torn  from  their  happy 
homes,  to  die  in  a  distant  land,  fighting  against 
the  cause  of  freedom. 

I  now  entered  directly  into  the  heart  of  Hesse 
Cassel.  The  country  resembled  a  collection  of 
hills  thrown  together  in  confusion — sometimes  a 
wide  plain  left  bet  ween  them,  sometimes  a  cluster 
of  wooded  peaks,  and  here  and  there  a  single 
pointed  summit  rising  above  the  rest.  The 
vallies  were  green  as  ever,  the  hill-sides  freshly 
ploughed  and  the  forests  beginning  to  be  col- 
ored by  the  tender  foliage  of  the  larch  and  birch. 
I  walked  two  or  three  hours  at  a  "  stretch."  and 
thenwhenl  could  find  a  dry,  shady  bank,  I  would 
rest  for  half  an  hour  and  finish  some  hastily- 
sketched  landscape,  or  lay  at  full  length,  with 
my  head  on  my  knapsack,  and  peruse  the  coun- 
tenance of  those  passing  by.  The  observation 
which  every  traveller  excites,  soon  ceases  to  be 
embarrassing.  It  was  at  first  extremely  un- 
pleasant ;  but  I  am  now  so  hardened,  that  the 
strange,  magnetic  influence  of  the  human  eve. 
which  we  cannot  avoid  feeling,  passes  by  me  ;is 
harmlessly  as  if  turned  aside  by  invisible  mail. 

During  the  day  several  showers  came  by,  but 
as  none  of  them  penetrated  further  than  my 
blouse,  I  kept  on,  and  reached  about  sunset  a 
little  village  in  the  valley.  I  chose  a  small  inn, 
which  had  an  air  of  neatness  about  it,  and  on 


WALKING  IN  HESSE  CASSEL.  143 

going  in,  the  tidy  landlady's  "  be  you  welcome,'" 
as  she  brought  a  pair  of  slippers  for  my  swollen 
feet,  made  me  feel  quite  at  home.  After  being 
furnished  \vith  eggs,  milk,  butter  and  bread,  for 
supper,  which  I  ate  while  listening  to  an  animated 
discussion  between  the  village  schoolmaster 
nnd  some  farmers,  I  was  ushered  into  a  clean, 
sanded  bedroom,  and  soon  forgot  all  fatigue. 
For  this,  with  breakfast  in  the  morning,  the  bill 
was  six  and  a  half  groschen — about  sixteen 
cents!  The  air  was  freshened  by  the  rain  and  I 
journeyed  over  the  hills  at  a  rapid  rate.  Stopping 
for  dinner  at  the  village  of  Wabern,  a  boy  at  the 
inn  asked  me  if  I  was  going  to  America?  I  said 
no,  I  came  from  there.  He  then  asked  me  many 
silly  questions,  after  which  he  ran  out  and  told 
the  people  of  the  village.  When  I  set  out  again, 
the  children  pointed  at  me  and  cried:  '"See 
there!  he  is  from  America !"  and  the  men  took 
off  their  hats  and  bowed ! 

The  sky  was  stormy,  which  added  to  the 
gloom  of  the  hills  around,  though  some  of  the 
distant  ranges  lay  in  mingled  light  and  shade — 
the  softest  alternation  of  purple  and  brown. 
There  were  many  isolated,  rocky  hills,  two  of 
which  interested  me,  through  their  attendant 
legends.  One  is  said  to  have  been  the  scene  of  a 
battle  between  the  Komans  and  Germans,  where, 
after  a  long  conflict  the  rock  opened  and  swal- 
lowed up  the  former.  The  other,  which  is 
crowned  with  a  rocky  wall,  so  like  a  ruined  fort- 
ress, as  at  a  distance  to  be  universally  mistaken 
for  one,  tradition  says  is  the  death-place  of 
Charlemagne,  who  still  walks  around  its  summit 
every  night,  clad  in  complete  armor.  On  ascend- 
ing a  hill  late  in  the  afternoon,  I  saw  at  a  great 
distance  the  statue  of  Hercules,  which  stands  on 
the  Wilhelmshohe,  near  Cassel.  Night  set  in  with 
a  dreary  rain,  and  I  stopped  at  an  inn  about 
five  miles  short  of  the  city.  AVhile  tea  was  pre- 
paring a  company  of  students  came  and  asked 


144  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

for  a  separate  room.  Seeing  I  was  alone, 
invited  me  up  with  them.  They  seemed  much 
interested  in  America,  and  leaving  the  table 
gradually,  formed  a  ring  around  me,  where  ] 
had  enough  to  do  to  talk  with  them  all  at  once. 
When  the  "omnibus  came  along  the  most  of  them 
went  with  it  to  Cassel;  but  live  remained  find 
persuaded  me  to  set  out  with  them  on  ,oot. 
They  insisted  on  carrying  my  knapsack  the 
whole  way,  through  the  rain  and  darkness,  and 
when  1  had  passed  the  city  gate  with  them,  un- 
challenged, conducted  me  to  the  comfortable 
hotel,  '^ur  Krone." 

It  if  s  pleasant  thing  to  wake  up  in  the  morning 
in  a  strange  city.  Every  thing  is  new ;  you 
walk  around  :t  for  the  first  time  in  the  full  enjoy- 
ment of  the  novelty,  or  ~:he  not  less  agreeable 
feeling  oi  surprise,  "I  it  :s  different  from  your 
anticipations.  Two  of  my  friends  of  the  previ- 
ous night  called  for  me  in  the  morning,  to  show 
me  around  the  city,  and  the  first  impression, 
made  in  such  agreeable  company,  prepossessed 
me  very  favorably.  I  shall  not,  however,  take 
up  time  in  describing  its  many  sights,  particu- 
larly the  Frederick's  Platz,  where  the  statue  of 
Frederick  the  Second,  who  sold  ten  thousand  of 
his  subjects  to  England,  has  been  re-erected, 
after  having  lain  for  years  in  a  stable  wheieit 
was  thrown  by  the  French. 

I  was  much  interested  in  young  Carl  K , 

one  of  my  new  acquaintances.  His  genercus 
and  unceasing  kindness  first  won  my  esteem, 
and  I  found  on  nearer  acquaintance,  the  quali- 
ties of  his  mind  equal  those  of  his  heart.  1  w 
many  beautiful  poems  of  his  which  were  of  re- 
markable merit,  considering  his  youth,  and 
thought  I  could  read  in  his  dark,  dreamy  eve. 
the  unconscious  presentiment  of  a  power  he  does 
not  yet  possess.  He  seemed  as  one  I  had  known 
for  years. 

He,  with  a  brother  student,  accompanied  me 


WILHELMSHOHE.  145 

in  the  afternoon,  to  Wilhelmshohe,  the  summer 
residence  of  the  Prince,  on  the  side  of  a.  range 
of  mountains  three  miles  west  of  the  city.  The 
road  leads  in  a  direct  line  to  the  summit  of  the 
mountain,  which  is  thirteen  hundred  feet  in 
height,  surmounted  by  a  great  structure,  called 
the  Giant's  Castle,  on  the  summit  of  which  is 
a  pyramid  ninety-six  feet  high,  supporting  a 
statue  of  Hercules,  copied  after  the  Farnese,  and 
thirty-one  feet  in  height.  By  a  gradual  ascent 
through  beautiful  woods,  we  reached  the  princely 
residence,  a  magnificent  mansion  standing  on  a 
natural  terrace  of  the  mountain.  Near  it  is  a 
little  theatre  built  by  Jerome  Buonaparte,  in 
which  he  himself  used  to  play.  We  looked  into 
the  green  house  in  passing,  where  the  floial 
splendor  3f  every  zone  was  combined.  There 
were  lofty  halls,  with  glass  roofs,  where  the 
orange  grew  to  a  great  tree,  and  one  could  sit 
in  myrtle  bowers,  with  the  brilliant  bloom  of  the 
tropics  around  him.  It  was  the  only  thing  there 
I  was  guilty  of  coveting. 

The  greatest  curiosity  is  the  water-works, 
which  are  perhaps  unequalled  in  the  world.  The 
("iiant's  ("ast.e  on  the  summit  contains  an  im- 
mense tank  in  which  water  is  kept  for  the  pur- 
pose; but  unfortunately,  at  the  time  I  was 
there,  the  pipes,  which  had  been  ft  ozen  through 
the  winter,  were  not  in  condition  to  play.  From 
the  summit  an  inclined  plane  of  masonry  de- 
scends the  mountain  nine  hundred  feet,  broken 
every  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  by  perpendicu- 
lar des-cents.  These  are  the  Cascades,  down 
which  the  water  first  rushes  from  the  tank. 
After  being  again  collected  in  a  great  "basin  at 
the  bottom,  it  passes  into  an  aqueduct,  built  like 
a  Roman  ruin,  and  goes  over  beautiful  aichrs 
through  the  forest,  where  it  falls  into  one  £heet 
down  a  deep  precipice.  When  it  has  descended 
several  other  beautiful  falls,  made  in  exact  imi- 
tation of  nature,  it  is  finally  collected  and  foims 


146  VIEWS  A   FOOT. 

the  great  fountain,  which  rises  twelve  inches  in 
diameter  from  the  middle  of  a  lake  to  the  height 
of  one  hundred  and  ninety  feet!  We  descended 
by  lovely  walks  through  the  forest  to  the  Low- 
on  burg,  built  as  the  ruin  of  a  knightly  castle, 
<md  fitted  out  in  every  respect  to  correspond 
with  descriptions  of  a  fortress  in  the  olden  time, 
with  moat,  drawbridge,  chapel  and  garden  of 
pyramidal  trees.  Farther  below,  are  a  few  small 
houses,  inhabited  by  the  descendants  of  the  Hes- 
sians who  fell  in  America,  supported  here  at  the 
Prince's  expense! 


CHAPTER 

ADVENTURES    AMONG    THE    HARTZ. 

On  taking  leave  of  Carl  at  the  gate  over  the 
Gottingen  road,  I  felt  tempted  to  bestow  a 
malediction,  upon  travelling,  from  its  merciless 
breaking  of  all  links,  as  soon  as  formed.  It  was 
painful  to  think  we  should  meet  no  more.  The 
tears  started  into  his  eyes,  and  feeling  a  mist 
gathering  over  mine,  I  gave  his  hand  a  parting 
pressure,  turned  my  back  upon  Cassel  and 
started  up  the  long  mountain,  at  a  desperate 
rate.  On  the  summit  I  passed  out  of  Hesse  into 
Hanover,  and  began  to  descend  the  remaining 
six  miles.  The  road  went  down  bymanywincu 
ings,  but  1  shortened  the  way  considerably  by  a 
foot-path  through  a  mossy  old  forest.  The  hills 
bordering  the  Weser  are  covered  with  wood, 
through  which  I  sawr  the  little  red-roofed  city  of 
Miinden,  at  the  bottom.  I  stopped  there  for  the 
night,  and  next  morning  walked  around  the 
place.  It  is  one  of  the  old  German  cities  that 
have  not  yet  felt  the  effect  of  the  changing  spirit 


GOTTINGEN.  147 

of  the  age.  It  is  still  walled,  though  the  towers 
are  falling  to  ruin.  The  streets  are  narrow, 
crooked,  and  full  of  ugly  old  houses,  and  to 
stand  in  the  little  square  before  the  public  build- 
ings, one  would  think  himself  born  in  the  six- 
teenth century.  Just  below  the  city  the  Werra 
and  Fulda  unite  and  form  the  Weser.  The  tri- 
angular point  has  been  made  into,  a  public  walk, 
and  the  little  steamboat  was  lying  at  anchor 
near,  waiting  to  start  for  Bremen. 

In  the  afternoon  I  got  into  the  omnibus  for 
Gottiugen.  The  ride  over  the  wild,  dreary,  mo- 
notonous hills  was  not  at  all  interesting.  There 
were  two  other  passengers  inside,  one  of  whom, 
a  grave,  elderly  man,  took  a  great  interest  in 
America,  but  the  conversation  was  principally 
on  his  side,  for  I  had  been  taken  with  a  fever  at 
Miinden.  I  lay  crouched  up  in  the  corner  of  the 
vehicle,  trying  to  keep  off  the  chills  which  con- 
stantly came  over  me,  and  wishing  only  for  Got- 
tingen,  that  I  might  obtain  medicine  and  a  bed. 
We  reached  it  at  last,  and  I  got  out  with  my 
knapsack  and  walked  wearily  through  half  a 
dozen  streets  till  I  saw  an  inn.  But  on  entering, 
I  found  it  so  dark  and  dirty  and  unfriendly, 
that  I  immediately  went  out  again  and  hired 
the  first  pleasant  looking  boy  I  met,  to  take  me 
to  a  good  hotel.  He  conducted  me  to  the  first 
one  in  the  city.  I  felt  a  trepidation  of  pocket, 
but  my  throbbing  head  plead  more  powerfully, 
so  I  ordered  a  comfortable  room  and  a  physi- 
cian. The  host,  Herr  Wilhelm,  sent  for  Pro- 
fessor Trefurt,  of  the  University,  who  told  me  I 
had  over-exerted  myself  in  walking.  He  made  a 
second  call  the  next  day,  when,  as  he  was  retir- 
ing, I  inquired  the  amount  of  his  fee.  He  begged 
to  be  excused  and  politely  bowed  himself 
out.  I  inquired  the  meaning  of  this  of  Herr 
Wilhelm,  who  said  it  was  customary  for  trav- 
ellers to  leave  what  they  chose  for  the  physician, 
as  there  was  no  regular  fee.  He  added,  more- 


148  VIEWS   A-FOOT. 

over,  that  twonty  groschen,  or  about  sixty 
cents,  was  sufficient  for  the  two  visits! 

I  stayed  in  Gottingen  two  dull,  dre.-n-y.  miser. 
able  days,  without  getting  much  better.  I  took 
but  one  short  walk  through  the  city,  in  which  1 
saw  the  outsides  of  a  few  old  churches  and  got  a 
hard  fallen  the  pavement.  Thinking  that  tin1 
cause  of  my  illness  might  perhaps  become  its 
cure,  I  resolved  to  go  on  rather  than  remain  in 
the  melancholy — in  spite  of  its  black-eyed  maid- 
ens, melancholy — Gottingen.  On  the  afternoon 
of  the  second  day,  I  took  the  post  to  Nordheim, 
about  twelve  miles  distant.  The  G6tfmgen~val- 
ley,  down  which  we  drove,  is  green  and  beauti- 
ful, and  the  trees  seem  to  have  come  out  all  at 
once.  We  were  not  within  sight  of  the  Hartz. 
but  the  mountains  along  the  Weser  were  visible 
on  the  left.  The  roads  were  extremely  muddy 
from  the  late  rains,  so  that  I  proceeded  but  slowly. 

A  blue  range  along  the  horizon  told  me  of  1  he 
Hartz,  as  I  passed;  although  there  were  some 
fine  side-glimpses  through  the  hills,  I  did  not  see 
much  of  them  till  I  reached  Osterode,  about 
twelve  miles  further.  Here  the  country  begins 
to  assume  a  different  aspect.  The  city  lies  in  a 
narrow  valley,  and  as  the  road  goes  down  a 
steep  hill  towards  it,  one  sees  on  each  side  many 
quarries  of  gypsum,  and  in  front  the  gloomy 
pine  mountains  are  piled  one  above  another  in 
real  Alpine  style.  But  alas!  the  city,  though  it 
looks  exceedingly  romantic  from  above,  is  one 
of  the  dirtiest  I  ever  saw.  I  stopped  at  Ilerz- 
berg,  six  miles  farther,  forthe  night.  Thescenery 
was  very  striking;  and  its  effect  was  much 
heightened  by  a  sky  full  of  black  clouds,  which 
sent  down  a  hail-storm  as  they  ]  lassed  over.  The 
hills  are  covered  with  pine,  fir  and  larch.  The 
latter  tree,  in  its  first  foliage,  is  most  delicate 
and  beautiful.  Every  bough  is  like  a  long  os- 
trich plume,  and  when  one  of  them  stands 
among  the  dark  pines,  it  seems  so  light  and  airy 


SCENERT  OF  THE  HARTZ.  U9 

that  the  wind  might  carry  it  away.  Just  oppo- 
site Herzberg,  the  Hartz  stands  in  its  gloomy 
and  mysterious  grandeur,  and  I  went  to  sleep 
with  the  pleasant  thought  that  an  hour's  walk 
on  the  morrow  would  shut  me  up  in  its  deep  re- 
cesses. 

The  next  morning  I  entered  them.  The  road 
led  up  a  narrow  mountain  valley,  down  which  a 
stream  was  rushing— on  all  sides  were  magnifi- 
cent forests  of  pine.  It  was  glorious  to  look 
down  their  long  aisles,  dim  and  silent,  with  a 
floor  of  thick  green  moss.  There  was  just  room 
enough  for  the  road  a  nd  the  wild  stream  which 
wound  its  way  along  between  the  hills,  affording 
the  most  beautiful,  mountain-view  along  the 
whole  route.  As  I  ascended,  the  mountains  be- 
came rougher  and  wilder,  and  in  the  shady  hol- 
lows were  still  drifts  of  snow.  Enjoying  every- 
thing very  much,  I  walked  on  without  taking 
notice  of  the  road,  and  on  reaching  a  wild, 
rocky  chasm  called  the  ''Schlucht,"  was  obliged 
to  turn  aside  and  take  a  footpath  over  a  high 
mountain  to  Andreasberg,  a  to'wn  built  on  a 
summit  two  thousand  feet  above  the  sea.  It  is 
inhabited  almost  entirely  by  the  workmen  in 
the  mines. 

The  way  from  Andreasberg  to  the  Brocken 
leads  along  the  Rehberger  Graben,  wrhich  carry 
water  about  six  miles  for  the  oreworks.  After 
going  through  a  thick  pine  wood,  I  came  out  on 
the  mountain-side,  where  rough  crags  overhung 
the  way  above,  and  through  the  tops  of  the 
trees  I  had  glimpses  into  the  gorge  below.  It 
was  scenery  of  the  wildest  character.  Directly 
opposite  rose  a  mountain  wall,  dark  and  stern 
through  the  gloomy  sky;  far  below  the  little 
stream  of  the  Oder  foamed  over  the  rocks  with 
a  continual  roar,  and  one  or  two  white  cloud- 
wreaths  were  curling  up  from  the  forests. 

I  followed  the  water-ditch  around  every  pro- 
jection of  the  mountain,  still  ascending  higher 


,60  VIEWS  J-FOOT. 

amid  the  same  wild  scenery,  till  at  length  I 
reached  the  Oderteich,  a  great  dam,  in  a  kind  of 
valley  formed  by  some  mountain  peaks  on  the 
side  of  the  Brocken.  It  has  a  breastwork  of 
granite,  very  firm,  and  furnishes  a  continual 
supply  of  water  for  the  works.  It  began  to  rain 
Boon,  and  I  took  a  foot-path  which  went  wind- 
ing up  through  the  pin:  wood.  The  storm  still 
increased,  till  everything  was  cloud  and  rain,  so 
I  was  obliged  to  stop  about  five  o'clock  at 
Oderbruch,  a  toll-house  and  tavern  on  the  side 
of  the  Brocke:  i,  on  the  boundary  between  Bruns- 
wick and  Hanover — the  second  highest  inhab- 
ited liouso  in  the  Hartz.  The  Brocken  was  invis- 
ible through  the  storm  c,ad  the  weather  for- 
boded  a  difficult  ascent.  The  night  was  cold, 
but  by  a  warm  fire  I  let  the  winds  howl  and  the 
rain  beat.  When  I  awoke  the  next  morning,  we 
were  in  clouds.  They  were  thick  on  every  side, 
hiding  what  little  view  there  was  through  the 
openings  of  the  forest.  After  breakfast,  how- 
ever, they  were  somewhat  thinner,  and  I  con- 
cluded to  start  for  the  Brocken.  It  is  not  the 
usual  way  for  travellers  who  ascend,  being  not 
only  a  bad  road  but  difficult  to  find,  as  I  soon 
discovered.  The  clouds  gathered  around  again 
after  I  set  out,  and  I  was  obliged  to  walk  in  a 
storm  of  mingled  rain  and  snow.  The  snow  lay 
several  feet  deep  in  the  forests,  and  the  path 
was,  in  many  places,  quite  drifted  over.  The 
white  cloud-masses  were  whirled  past  by  the 
wind,  continually  enveloping  me  and  shutting 
out  every  view.  During  the  winter  the  path  had 
become,  in  many  places,  the  bed  of  a  mountain 
torrent,  so  that  I  was  obliged  sometimes  to 
wade  knee-deep  in  snow,  and  sometimes  to  walk 
over  the  wet,  spongy  moss,  crawling  under  the 
Jong,  dripping  branches  of  the  stunted  pines. 
After  a  long  time  of  such  dreary  travelling.  I 
came  to  two  rocks  called  the  Stag  Horns,  stand- 
ing on  a  little  peak.  The  storm,  now  all  snow, 


CLIMBING   TH£  BROCK  EN.  151 

blew  more  violently  than  ever,  and  the  path  be- 
came lost  under  the  deep  drifts. 

Comforting  myself  with  the  assurance  that  if 
I  could  not  fiiid  it,  I  could  at  least  make  my 
way  back,  I  began  searching,  and  after  some 
time,    came    upon    it    again.    Here   the   forest 
ceased;    the    way    led  on  large  stones  over  a 
marsliy  ascending  plain,  but  what  was  above, 
or  on  either  side,  I  could  not  see.    It  was  soli- 
tude  of    the    most     awful    kind.      There    wras 
nothing  but  the  storm,  which  had  already  wet 
me  through,  and  the  bleak  gray  waste  of  rocks. 
It  grew   steeper  and   steeper;    I  could  barely 
trace  the  path  by  the  rocks  which  were  worn,  and 
the    snow    threatened    soon    to    cover    these. 
Added  to  this,  although  the  walking  and  fresh 
mountain  air  had  removed  my  illness,!  was  still 
weak  from  the  effects  of  it,  and  the  consequences 
of  a  much  longer  exposure  to  the  storm  was 
greatly  to  be  feared.     I  was  wondering  if  the 
wind   increased    at  the   same  rate,  how  much 
longer  it  would  be  before  I  should  be  carried  off, 
when  suddenly  something  loomed  up  above  me 
through  the  storm.     A  few-   steps  more  and  I 
stood  beside  the  Brocken    House,  on  the  very 
summit  of  the  mountain!     The  mariner,  who 
has  been  floating  for  days  on  a  wreck  at  sea, 
could  scarcely  be  more  rejoiced  at  a  friendly  sail, 
than  I  was  on  entering  the  low  building.    Two 
large  Alpine  dogs  in  the  passage,  as  I  walked  in, 
dripping  with  wet,  gave  notice  to  the  inmates, 
and   I   was  soon   ushered   into  a  warm  room, 
where  I  changed   my  soaked  gaiments  for  dry 
ones,  and  sat  down  by  the  fire  with  feelings  of 
comfort  not  easily  imagined.     The  old  landlord 
was  quite  surprised,   on  hearing  the  path  by 
which  1  came,  that  I  found  the  way  at  all.    The 
summit  was  wrapped  in  the  thickest  cloud,  and 
he  gave  me  no  hope  for  several  hours  of  any 
prospect  at  all,  so  I  sat  down  and  looked  over 
the  Stranger's  Album. 


159  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

I  saw  but  two  names  from  the  United  States— 
B.  F.  Atkins,  of  Boston,  and  C.  A.  Hay,  from 
York,  Pa.  There  wen ' ;  \  gn  -at  many  long-winded 
German  poems— among  them,  one  by  Schelling, 
the  philosopher.  Some  of  them  spoke  of  having 
seen  the  "  Spectre  of  the  Brocken."  I  inquired  of 
the  landlord  about  the  phenomenon  ;  he  says  in 
winter  it  is  frequently  seen,  in  summer  more  sel- 
dom. The  cause  is  very  simple.  It  is  always 
seen  at  sunrise,  when  the  eastern  side  of  the 
Brocken  is  free  from  clouds,  and  at  the  same 
time,  the  inist  rises  from  the  valley  on  the  oppo- 
site side.  The  shadow  of  every  thing  on  the 
Brocken  is  then  thrown  in  grand  proportions 
upon  the  mist,  and  is  seen  surrounded  with  a 
luminous  halo.  It  is  somewhat  singular  that 
such  a  spectacle  can  be  seen  upon  the  Brocken 
alone,  but  this  is  probably  accounted  for  by  the 
formation  of  the  mountain,  which  collects  the 
mist  at  just  such  a  distance  from  the  summit  as 
to  render  the  shadow  visible. 

Soon  after  dinner  the  storm  subsided  and  the 
clouds  separated  a  little.  I  could  see  down 
through  the  rifts  on  the  plains  of  Brunswick,  and 
sometimes,  when  they  opened  a  little  more,  the 
mountains  below  us  to  the  east  and  the  adjoin- 
ing plains,  as  far  as  Magdeburg.  It  was  like 
looking  on  the  earth  from  another  planet,  or 
from  some  point  in  the  air  which  had  no  connec- 
tion with  it;  our  station  was  completely  sur- 
rounded by  clouds,  rolling  in  great  masses 
around  us.  now  and  then  giving  glimpses  through 
their  opening  of  the  blue  plains,  dotted  with 
cities  and  villages,  far  below.  At  one  time  when 
they  were  tolerably  well  separated,  I  ascended 
the  tower,  fifty  feet  high,  standing  near  the 
Brocken  House.  The  view  on  three  sides  was 
quite  clear,  and  I  can  easily  imagine  what  a 
magnificent  prospect  it  must  be  in  fine  weather. 
The  Brocken  is  only  about  four  thousand  feet 
high,  nearly  the  same  as  the  loftiest  peak  of  the 


A  BROCKEN  NOSEGAT.  153 

Catskil],  but  being  the  highest  mountain  in 
Northern  (lentu.uy,  it  commands  a  more  exten- 
sive prospect.  Imagine  a  circle  described  with  a 
i-M  dins  of  a  hundred  miles,  comprising  thirty 
r-ities,  two  or  three  hundred  villages  and -one 
whole  mountain  district!  "We  could  see  Bruns- 
wick .mil  Magdeburg,  and  beyond  themthegreat 
plain  which  extends  to  the  North  Sea  in  one  di- 
rection and  to  Berlin  in  the  other,  while  directly 
below  us  lay  the  dark  mountains  of  the  Hartz, 
with  little  villages  in  their  sequestered  valleys. 
It  \vas  but  a  few  moments  I  could  look  on  this 
scene — in  an  instant  the  clouds  swept  together 
again  and  completely  hid  it.  In  accordance  with 
a  custom  of  the  mountain,  one  of  the  girls  made 
me  a  "Brocken  nosegay,"  of  heather,  lichens 
and  moss.  I  gave  her  a  few  pfennigs  and 
stowed  it  away  carefully  in  a  corner  of  my  knap- 
sack. 

I  now  began  descending  the  east  side,  by  a 
good  road  over  fields  of  bare  rock  and  through 
In  ;•<_':<)  forests  of  pine.  Two  or  three  bare  brown 
peaks  rose  opposite  with  an  air  of  the  wildest 
sublimity,  and  in  many  places  through  the  for- 
est towered  lofty  crags.  This  is  the  way  by 
which  (itpthe  brings  Faust  up  the  Brocken,  and 
th;-*  scenery  is  graphically  described  in  that  part 
of  the  poem.  At  the  foot  of  the  mountain  is  the 
little  village  of  Schiercke,  the  highest  in  the 
Hartz.  Here  I  took  a  narrow  path  through  the 
woods,  and  after  following  a  tediously  long  road 
over  the  hills,  reached  Elbingerode,  where  I  spent 
thonight,  and  left  the  next  morning  for  Blank- 
eiibiirg.  I  happened  to  take  the  wrong  road, 
however,  and  went  through  Rubeland,  a  little 
village  in  the  valley  of  the  Bode.  There  are 
many  iron  works  here,  and  two  celebrated 
caves,  called  "Baumanirs  Hohle,''  and  "Biel's 
Hohle."  I  kept  on  through  the  gray,  rocky  hills 
to  Huttenrode,  where  I  inquired  the  way  to  the 
Hosstrappe,  but  was  directed  wrong,  and  after 


154  VIEWS   A- FOOT 

walking  nearly  two  hours  in  a  heavy  rnin,  ar 
rived  ;it  Lndwigshiitte,  on  the  Bode,  in  one  of 
the  wildest  and  loneliest  corners  of  the  Hartz. 
I  dried  my  wet  clothes  at  a  little  inn.  ate  a  din- 
dei-  of  bread  and  milk,  and  learning  that  I  was 
just  as  far  from  the  Rosstrappe  as  ever,  and 
that  the  way  was  impossible  to  find  alone,  I 
hunted  ii]>  a  guide. 

We  went  over  the  mountains  through  a  tine 
old  forest,  for  about  two  hours,  and  came  out 
on  the  brow  of  a  hill  near  the  end  of  the  Hartz. 
with  a  beautiful  view  of  the  country  below  and 
around.  Passing  the  little  inn,  the  path  led 
through  thick  bushes  along  the  summit,  over  a 
narrow  ledge  of  rocks  that  seemed  to  si  retch  out 
into  the  air,  for  on  either  side  the  foot  of  the 
precipice  vanished  in  the  depth  below. 

Arrived  at  last  at  the  end,  I  looked  around  me. 
What  a  spectacle!  I  was  standing  on  the  end 
of  a  line  of  precipice  which  ran  out  from  the 
mountain  like  a  wall  for  several  hundred  feet — 
the  hills  around  rising  up  perpendicularly  from 
the  gorge  below,  where  the  Bode  pressed  into  a 
narrow  channel  foamed  its  way  through.  Sharp 
masses  of  gray  rock  rose  up  in  many  places  from 
the  main  body  like  pillars,  with  trees  clinging  to 
the  clefts,  and  although  the  defile  was  near  se\-»-n 
hundred  feet  deep,  the  summits,  in  one  place, 
were  very  near  to  one  another.  Near  the  point 
at  which  I  stood,  which  was  secured  by  a  railing, 
was  an  impression  in  the  rock  like  the  hoof  of  a 
giant  horse,  from  which  the  place  takes  its  name. 
It  is  very  distinct  and  perfect,  and  nearly  two 
feet  in  length. 

I  went  back  to  the  little  inn  and  sat  down  to 
rest  and  chat  awhile  with  the  talkative  landlady. 
Notwithstanding  her  horrible  Prussian  dialect, 
I  was  much  amused  with  the  budget  of  wonders, 
which  she  keeps  for  the  information  of  travellers. 
Among  other  things,  she  related  to  me  the 
legend  of  the  Kosst  rappe,  which  I  give  in  her  own 


THE  KOSSTRAPPE  AND  ITS  LEGEND.    165 

words:  "A  great  many  hundred  years  ago, when 
there  were  plenty  of  giants  through  the  world, 
there  was  a  certain  beautiful  princess,  who  was' 
very  much  loved  by  one  of  them.  Now,  although 
the  parents  of  this  princess  were  afraid  of  the 
giant,  and  wanted  her  to  marry  him,  she  herself 
hated  him,  because  she  was  in  love  with  a  brave 
knight.  But,  you  see,  the  brave  knight  could  do 
nothing  against  the  great  giant,  and  so  a  day 
was  appointed  for  the  wedding-  of  the  princess. 
When  they  were  married,  the  giant  had  a  great 
feast  and  he  and  all  his  servants  got  drunk.  So 
the  princess  mounted  his  black  horse  and  rode 
away  over  the  mountains,  till  she  reached  this 
valley.  She  stood  on  that  square  rock  which 
you  see  opposite  to  us,  and  when  she  saw  her 
knight  on  this  side,  where  we  are,  she  danced  for 
joy,  and  the  rock  is  called  the  Tanzplatz,  to  this 
very  day.  But  when  the  giant  found  she  had 
gone,  he  followed  her  as  fast  as  he  might ;  then 
a  holy  bishop,  who  saw  the  princess,  blessed  the 
feet  of  her  horse,  and  she  jumped  on  it  across  to 
this  side,  where  his  fore  feet  made  two  marks  in 
the  rock,  though  there  is  only  one  left  now.  You 
should  not  laugh  at  tLis,  for  if  there  were  giants 
then,  there  must  have  been  very  big  horses  too, 
as  one  can  see  from  the  hoofmark,  and  the  valley 
was  narrower  then  than  it  is  now.  Mv  dear 
man,  who  is  very  old  now,  (you  see  him  through 
the  bushes,  there,  digging,)  says  it  was  so  when 
he  was  a  child,  and  that  the  old  people  living 
then,  told  him  there  was  once  four  just  such 
hoof-tracks,  on  the  Tanzplatz,  where  the  horse 
stood  before  he  jumped  over.  And  we  cannot 
doubt  the  words  of  the  good  old  people,  for  there 
were  many  strange  things  then,  we  all  know, 
which  the  dear  Lord  does  not  let  happen  now. 
But  I  must  tell  you,  lieber  Herr,  that  the  giant 
tried  to  jump  after  her  and  fell  away  down' into 
the  valley,  where  they  say  he  lives  yet  in  the 
ehape  of  a  big  black  dog,  guarding  the  crown  of 


156  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

the  princess,  which  fell  off  as  she  was  going  over. 
But  this  part  of  the  story  is  perhaps  not  true, 
as  nobody,  that  I  ever  heard  of,  has  seen  either 
the  black  dog  or  the  crown  !  " 

After  listening  to  similar  gossip  for  a  while,  I 
descended  the  mountain-side,  a  short  distance  to 
the  Biilowshohe.  This  is  a  rocky  shaft  tlmt 
shoots  upward  from  the  mountain,  having  from 
its  top  a  glorious  view  through  the  door  which 
the  Bode  makes  in  passing  out  of  the  Hartz. 
I  could  see  at  a  great  distance  the  towers  of 
Magdeburg,  and  further,  the  vast  plain  .stretch- 
ing away  like  a  sea  towards  Berlin.  From 
Thale,  the  village  below,  where  the  air  was 
warmer  than  in  the  Hartz  and  the  fruit-lives 
already  in  blossom,  it  was  four  hours'  walk  to 
Halberstadt,  by  a  most  tiresome  road  over  long 
ranges  of  hills,  all  ploughed  and  planted,  and 
extending  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  without 
a  single  fence  or  hedge.  It  is  pleasant  to  look 
over  scenes  where  nature  is  so  free  and  un- 
shackled ;  but  the  people,  alas  I  wear  the  fetters. 
The  setting  sun,  which  lighted  up  the  old  Brocket! 
and  his  snowy  top,  showed  me  alsoHalberstadt, 
the  end  of  my  Hartz  journey;  but  its  deceitful 
towers  fled  as  I  approached,  and  I  was  half  dead 
with  fatigue  on  arriving  there. 

The  ghostly,  dark  and  echoing  castle  of  an 
inn  (the  Black  Eagle)  where  I  stopped,  was 
enough  to  inspire  a  lonely  travel  lei-,  like  my- 
self, with  unpleasant  fancies.  It  looked  heavy 
and  massive  enough  to  have  been  a  stout 
baron's  stronghold  m  some  former  century ;  the 
taciturn  landlord  and  his  wife,  who,  with  a 
solemn  servant  girl,  were  the  only  tenants,  had 
grown  into  perfect  keeping  with  its  gloomy 
character.  When  I  groped  my  way  under  the 
heavy,  arched  portal  into  the  guests'  room — a 
large',  lofty,  cheerless  hall — all  was  dark,  and  I 
could  barely  perceive,  by  the  little  light  which 
came  through  two  deep-set  windows,  the  in- 


A  SUSPICIOUS  tNN.  157 

mates  of  the  house,  sitting  on  opposite  sides  of 
the  room.  After  some  delay,  the  hostess 
brought  a  light.  I  entreated  her  to  bring  me 
something  instantly  for  supper,  and  in  half  an 
hour  she  placed  a  mixture  on  the  table,  the  like 
of  which  I  never  wish  to  taste  again.  She  called 
it  beer-soup!  I  found,  on  examination,  it  was 
beer,  boiled  with  meat,  and  seasoned  strongly 
with  pepper  and  salt!  My  hunger  disappeared, 
and  pleading  fatigue  as  an  excuse  for  want  of 
appetite,  I  left  the  table.  When  I  was  ready  to 
retire,  the  landlady,  who  had  been  sitting 
silently  in  a  dark  corner,  called  the  solemn  ser- 
vant-girl, who  took  up  a  dim  lamp,  and  bade 
me  follow  her  to  the  "sleeping  chamber."  Tak- 
ing up  my  knapsack  and  staff,  I  stumbled  down 
the  steps  into  the  arched  gateway;  before  me 
was  a  long,  damp,  deserted  court-yard,  across 
which  the  girl  took  her  way.  I  'followed  her 
with  some  astonishment,  imagining  where  the 
sleeping  chamber  could  be,  when  she  stopped  at 
a  small,  one-story  building,  standing  alone  in 
the  yard.  Opening  the  door  with  a  rusty  key, 
she  led  me  into  a  bare  room,  a  few  feet  square, 
opening  into  another,  equally  bare,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  a  rough  bed.  "Certainly,"  said  I, 
"I  am  not  to  sleep  here !"  "  Yes,"  she  answered, 
"this  is  the  sleeping  chamber,"  at  the  same 
time  setting  down  the  light  and  disappearing. 
I  examined  the  place — it  smelt  mouldy,  and  the 
walls  were  cold  and  damp;  there  had  been  a 
window  at  the  head  of  the  bed,  but  it  was 
walled  up,  and  that  at  the  foot  was  also  closed 
to  within  a  few  inches  of  the  top.  The  bed  was 
coarse  and  dirty;  and  on  turning  down  the 
ragged  covers,  I  saw  with  horror,  a  dark  brown 
stain  noar  the  pillow,  like  that  of  blood !  For  a 
moment  I  hesitated  whether  to  steal  out  of  the 
inn,  and  seek  another  lodging,  late  as  it  was; 
at  last,  overcoming  my  fears,  I  threw  my  clothes 
into  a  heap,  and  lay  down,  placing  niy  heavy 


158  VIEWS  A-fOOT. 

staff  at  the  head  of  the  bed.  Persons  passed 
up  and  down  the  courtyard  several  times,  tin- 
light  of  their  lamps  streaming  through  1  he  na  r- 
ro\v  aperture  up  against  the  ceiling,  and  I  dis. 
tinctly  heard  voices,  which  seemed  to  be  near 
the  door.  Twice  did  I  sit  up  in  bed,  breathless, 
with  my  hand  on  the  cane,  in  the  most  intense 
anxiety;  but  fatigue  finally  overcame  suspicion. 
and  I  sank  into  a  deep  sleep,  from  which  I  was 
gladly  awakened  by  daylight.  In  reality,  then- 
may  have  been  no  cause  for  my  fears — I  may 
have  wronged  the  lonely  innkeepers  by  them; 
but  certainly  no  place  or  circumstances  ever 
seemed  to  me  more  appropriate  to  a  deed  of 
robbery  or  crime.  I  left  immediately,  and  when 
a  turn  in  the  street  hid  the  ill-omened  front  of 
the  inn,  I  began  to  breathe  with  my  usual 
freedom. 


CHAPTER   XVm. 

NOTES    IX    LEIPSIC    AND    DRESDEN. 

Leipsic,  May  8. — I  have  now  been  nearly  two 
days  in  this  wide-famed  city,  and  the  more  I  see 
of  it  the  better  I  like  it.  It  is  a  pleasant,  friendly 
town,  old  enough  to  be  interesting,  and  new 
euoughto  be  comfortable.  There  is  much  active 
business  life,  through  which  it  is  fast  increasing 
in  size  and  beauty.  Its  publishing  establish- 
ments are  the  largest  in  the  world,  and  its 
annual  fair  attended  by  people  from  all  parts  of 
Europe.  This  is  much  for  a  city  to  accomplish, 
situated  alone  in  the  middle  of  a  great  plain, 
with  no  natural  charms  of  scenery  or  treasures 
of  art  to  attract  strangers.  The  energy  and 
enterprise  of  its  merchants  have  accomplished 


MAGDEBURG.  159 

all  this,  and  it  now  stands,  in  importance,  among 
the  first  cities  of  Europe. 

The  bad  weather  obliged  me  to  take  the  rail- 
road at  Halberstadt,  to  keep  the  appointment 
with  my  friend,  in  this  city.  I  left  at  six  for 
Magdeburg",  and  after  two  hours'  ride  over  a 
dull,  tiresome  plain,  rode  along  under  the  mounds 
and  fortifications  by  the  side  of  the  Elbe,  and 
entered  the  old  town.  It  was  very  cold,  and  the 
streets  were  muddy,  so  I  contented  myself  with 
looking  at  the  Broadway,  (der  breite  Weg,)  the 
Cathedral  and  one  or  two  curious  old  churches, 
and  in  walking  along  the  parapet  leading  to  the 
fortress,  which  has  a  view  of  the  winding  Elbe. 
The  Citndel  was  interesting  from  having  been 
the  prison  in  which  Baron  Trenck  was  confined, 
whose  narrative  I  read  years  ago,  when  quite  a 
child. 

AVe  were  soon  on  the  road  to  Leipsic.  The  way 
was  over  one  great,  uninterrupted  plain — a  more 
monotonous  country, even,  thanBelgium.  Two 
of  the  passengers  in  the  car  with  me  were  much 
annoyed  at  being  taken  by  the  rail  way  agents  for 
Poles.  Their  movements  were  strictly  watched 
by  the  gens  d'arme  at  every  station  we  passed, 
and  they  were  not  even  allowed  to  sit  together! 
At  Kotlien  a  branch  track  went  off  to  Berlin. 
We  passed  by  Halle  without  being  able  to  see 
anything  of  it  or  its  University,  and  arrived 
here  in  four  hours  after  leaving  Magdeburg. 

On  my  first  walk  around  the  city,  yesterday 
morning,  I  passed  the  Augustus  Platz—a  broad 
green  lawn,  on  which  front  the  University  and 
several  other  public  buildings.  A  chain  of  beau- 
tiful promenades  encircles  the  city,  on  the  siteof 
its  old  fortifications.  Following  their  course 
through  walks  shaded  by  large  trees  and  bor- 
dered with  flowering  shrubs,  I  passed  a  small  but 
chaste  monument  to  Sebastian  Bach,  the  com- 
poser, which  was  erected  almost  entirely  at  th/ 
private  cost  of  Mendelssohn,  and  stands  opp<? 


160  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

eite  the  buildiwg  in  which  Bach  once  directed  th« 
choirs.  As  I  was  standing  beside  it,  a  glorious 
choral,  swelled  by  a  hundred  voices,  came  through 
the  open  windows,  like  a  tribute  to  the  genius  of 
the  great  master. 

Having  found  my  friend  we  went  together  to 
the  St ern  Warte,  or  Observatory,  which  givi  >  a 
fine  view  of  the  country  around  the  city,  and  in 
particular  the  battle  field.  The  Castellan  who  is 
stationed  there, is  well  acquainted  withthelocal- 
ities,  and  pointed  out  the  position  of -the  hostile 
armies.  It  was  one  of  the  most  bloody  and 
hard-fought  battles  which  history  records.  The 
army  of  Napoleon  stretched  like  a  semicircle 
around  the  southern  and  eastern  sides  of  theciiy, 
and  the  plain  beyond  was  c  <  cupied  by  the  allies, 
whose  forces  met  together  lu-ie.  Schwarzenberg, 
with  his  Austrians,  came  fiom  Dresden;  Blucher, 
from  Halle,  with  the  Emperor  Alexander.  Their 
forces  amounted  to  thiee  hundred  thousand, 
while  those  ci  Napoleon  ranked  at  one  hundred 
and  ninety-two  thousand  men.  It  must  have 
been  a  terrific  scene.  Four  days  raged  the  bat- 
tle, and  the  meeting  of  half  a  million  of  men  in 
deadly  conflict  was  accompanied  by  the  thunder 
of  sixteen  hundred  cannon.  The  small  rivers 
which  flow  through  Leipsic  were  swollen  with 
blood,  and  the  vast  plain  was  strewed  with  more 
than  fifty  thousand  dead.  Ii  is  difficult  to  con- 
ceive of  such  slaughter,  while  looking  at  the 
quiet  and  tranquil  landscape  below.  It  seemed 
more  like  a  legend  of  past  ages,  when  ignorance 
and  passion  led  men  to  murder  and  destroy, 
than  an  event  which  the  last  half  century  wit- 
nessed. For  the  sake  of  humanity  it  is  to  be 
hoped  that  the  world  will  never  see  such  another. 

There  are  some  lovely  walks  around  Leipsic. 
AVe  went  yesterday  afternoon  with  a  few  friends 
to  the  Ilosenthal.  a  beautiful  meadow,  bordered 
by  forests  of  the  (Jerman  oak.  very  few  of  whose 
Druid  trunks  have  been  left  standing. 


BATTLE  SCENES.  161 

Swiss  cottages  embowered  in  the  foliage,  where 
every  afternoon  the  social  citizens  assemble  to 
drink  their  coffee  and  enjoy  a  few  nours'  escape 
from  the  noisy  and  dusty  streets.  One  can  walk 
for  miles  along  these  lovely  paths  by  the  side 
of  the  velvet  meadows,  or  the  banks  of  some 
shaded  stream.  We  visited  the  little  village  of 
Golis,  a  short  distance  off.  where,  in  the  second 
story  of  a  little  white  house,  hangs  the  sign: 
"  Schiller's  Room."  Some  of  the  Leipsic  literati 
have  built  a  stone  arch  over  the  entrance,  with 
the  inscription  above:  "Here  dwelt  Schiller  in 
1795,  and  wrote  his  Hymn  to  Joy."  Every 
where  through  Germany  the  remembrances  of 
Schiller  are  sacred.  In  ev  :-y  city  where  he  lived, 
they  show  his  dwelling.  They  know  and  rever- 
ence the  mighty  spirit  who  has  been  among 
them.  The  little  room  where  he  conceived  that 
sublime  poem  is  hallowed  as  if  by  the  presence 
of  unseen  spirits. 

I  was  anxious  to  see  the  spot  where  Ponia^ 
tpwsky  fell.  We  returned  over  the  plain  to  the 
city  and  passed  in  at  the  gate  by  which  the 
Cossacks  entered,  pursuing  the  flying  French. 
Crossing  the  lower  part,  we  came  to  the  little 
river  Elster,  in  whose  waves  the  gallant  prince 
sank.  The  stone  bridge  by  which  we  crossed 
was  blown  up  by  the  French,  to  cut  off  pursuit. 
J^apoleon  had  given  orders  that  it  should  not  be 
blown  up  till  the  Poles  had  all  passed  over,  as 
the  river,  though  narrow,  is  quite  deep,  and  the 
banks  are  steep.  Nevertheless,  his  officers  did 
not  wait,  and  the  Poles,  thus  exposed  to  the 
fire  of  the  enemy,  were  obliged  to  plunge  into 
the  stream  to  join  the  French  army,  wMch  had 
begun  the  retreat  towards  Frankfort.  Ponia- 
towsky,  severely  wounded,  made  his  way 
through  a  garden  near  and  escaped  on  horse- 
back into  the  water.  He  became  entangled 
among  the  fugitives  and  sank.  By  walking  a 
little  distance  along  the  road  towards  Frank- 


102  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

fort,  we  could  see  the  spot  where  his  body  was 
taken  out  of  the  river;  it  is  now  marked  by  a 
square  stone',  covered  with  the  names  of  his 
countrymen  who  have  visited  it.  We  returned 
through  the  narrow  arched  way,  by  which  Na- 
poleon tied  when  the  battle  was  lost. 

Another  interesting  place  in  Leipsic  is  Auer- 
back's  Cellar,  which,  it  is  said,  contains  an  old 
manuscript  history  of  Faust,  from  which  Goethe 
derived  the  first  idea  of  his  poem.  He  used  to 
frequent  this  cellar,  and  one  of  his  scenes  in 
"Faust"  is  laid  in  it.  We  looked  down  the 
arched  passage;  not  wishing  to  purchase  any 
wine,  we  could  find  no  pretence  for  entering. 
The  streets  are  full  of  book  stores  and  one  half 
the  business  of  the  inhabitants  appears  to  con- 
sist in  printing,  paper-making  and  binding. 
The  publishers  have  a  handsome  Exchange  of 
their  own,  and  during  the  Fairs,  the  amount  of 
business  transacted  is  enormous.  The  establish- 
ment of  Brockhaus  is  contained  in  an  immense 
building,  adjoining  which  stands  his  dwelling, 
in  the  midst  of  magnificent  gardens.  That  of 
Tauchnitz  is  not  less  celebrated.  His  edition  of 
the  classics,  in  particular,  are  the  best  that  have 
ever  been  made;  and  he  has  lately  commenced 
publishing  a  number  of  English  works,  in  a 
cheap  form.  Otto  Wigand,  who  has  also  a  large 
establishment,  has  beo*un  to  issue  translations 
of  American  works.  He  has  already  published 
Prescott  and  Bancroft,  and  I  believe  intends 
giving  out  shortly,  translations  from  some  of 
our  poets  and  novelists.  I  became  acquainted 
afc  the  Museum,  with  a  young  German  author 
who  had  been  some  time  in  America,  and  was 
well  versed  in  our  literature.  He  is  now  engaged 
in  translating  American  works,  one  of  which— 
Hoffman's  "Wild  Scenes  of  the  Forest  and 
Prairie" — will  soon  appear.  In  no  place  in  Ger- 
many have  I  found  more  knowledge  of  our 
country,  her  men  and  her  institutions,  than  ill 


DRESDEN.  168 

Leipsic,  and  as  yet  I  have  seen  few  that  would 
be  preferable  as  a  place  of  residence.  Its  attrac- 
tions lie  not  in  its  scenery,  but  in  the  social  and 
mtelieotual  character  of  its  inhabitants. 

May  11.  — At  last  in  this  "Florence  of  the 
Elbe,"  as  the  Saxons  have  christened  it.  Exclu- 
sive of  its  glorious  galleries  of  art,  which  are 
scarcely  surpassed  by  any  in  Europe,  Dresden 
charms  one  by  the  natural  beauty  of  its  en- 
virons. It  stands  in  the  curve  of  the  Elbe,  in  the 
midst  of  green  meadows,  gardens  and  fine  old 
woods,  with  the  hills  of  Saxony  sweeping  around 
like  an  amphitheatre,  and  the  craggy  peaks  of 
the  Highlands  looking  at  it  froin  afar.  The 
domes  and  spires  at  a  distance  give  it  a  rich 
Italian  look,  which  is  heightened  by  the  white 
villas,  embowered  in  trees,  gleaming  on  the  hills 
around.  In  the  streets  there  is  no  bustle  of 
business— nothing  of  the  din  and  confusion  of 
traffic  which  mark  most  cities;  it  seems  like  a 
place  for  study  and  quiet  enjoyment. 

The  railroad  brought  us  in  .three  hours  from 
Leipsic,  over  the  eighty  miles  of  plain  that  in- 
tervene. We  came  from  the  station  through  the 
Xt'UstfuJt,  passing- the  Japanese  Pahf.r  ;ii:<i  the 
equestrian  statue  of  Augustus  the  Strong.  The 
magnificent  bridge  over  the  Elbe  was  so  much 
injured  by  the  late  inundation,  as  to  be  impass- 
able; we  were  obliged  to  go  some  distance  up 
the  river  bank  and  cross  on  a  bridge  of  boats. 
Next  morning  my  first  search  was  foi  the  picture 
gallery.  We  set  off  at  random,  and  after  pass- 
ing the  Church  of  On/  Lady,  with  its  lofty  dome 
of  solid  stone,  which  withstood  the  heaviest 
bombs  during  the  war  with  Frederick  the  Great,' 
came  to  an  open  square,  one  side  of  which  yae 
occupied  by  an  old,  brown,  rod-roc.-.'  ing, 

whi'-ii  I  at  once  m-oguizc-d,  from  pictures,  as  the 
object  of  our  search. 

have  just   iaken  a  last  look  at  thega! 
this   morning,  and   left   it    with    real   regret; 
t> 


1«4  VIEWS   A-FOOT. 

for,  during  the  two  visits,  Raphael's  heavenly 
picture  of  the  Madonna  and  child  had  BO  grown 
into  my  love  and  admiration,  that  it  was  pain- 
ful  to  think  I  should  never  see  it  again.  There 
are  many  more  which  clung  so  strongly  to  my 
imagination,  gratifying  in  the  highest  degree  the 
love  for  the  Beautiful,  that  I  left  them  with  sad- 
ness,  and  the  thought  that  I  would  now  only 
have  the  memory.  I  can  see  the  inspired  eye  and 
god-like  brow  of  the  Jesus-child,  as  if  I  were  still 
standing  before  the  picture,  and  the  sweet,  holy 
countenance  of  the  Madonna  still  looks  upon 
me.  Yet,  though  this  picture  is  a  miracle  of  art, 
the  first  glance  filled  me  with  disappointment. 
It  has  somewhat  faded  during  the  three  hundred 

Ssars  that  have  rolled  away  since  the  hand  of 
aphael  worked  on  the  canvas,  and  the  glass 
with  which  it  is  covered  for  better  preservation, 
injures  the  effect.  After  I  had  gazed  on  it  awhile, 
every  thought  of  this  vanished.  The  figure  01 
the  virgin  seemed  to  soar  in  the  air,  and  it  was 
difficult  to  think  the  clouds  were  not  in  motion. 
An  aerial  lightness  clothes  her  form,  and  it  is 
perfectly  natural  for  such  a  figure  to  stand 
among  the  clouds.  Two  divine  cherubs  look  up 
from  below,  and  in  her  arms  sits  the  sacred  child. 
Those  two  faces  beam  from  the  picture  like  those 
of  angels.  The  wild,  prophetic  eye  and  lofty 
brow  of  the  young  Jesus  chains  one  like  a  spell. 
There  is  something  more  than  mortal  in  its  ex- 
pression— something  in  the  infant  face  which  in- 
dicates a  power  mightier  than  the  proudest  man- 
hood. There  is  no  glory  around  the  head ;  but 
the  spirit  which  shines  from  those  features,  marks 
his  divinity.  In  the  sweet  face  of  the  mother 
there  speaks  a  sorrowful  foreboding  mixed  with 
its  ^tenderness,  as  if  she  knew  the  world  into 
which  the  Saviour  was  born,  and  foresaw  the 
path  in  which  he  was  to  tread.  It  is  a  picture 
which  one  can  scarce  look  upon  without  tears. 
There  are  in  the  same  room  six  pictures  by 


MORE  A  ITS  MONUMENT.  161 

Correggio,  which  are  said  to  be  among  hi* 
best  works ;  one  of  them  his  celebrated  Magdalen. 
There  is  also  Correggio 's  "  Holy  Night,"  or  the 
virgin  with  the  shepherds  in  the"  manger,  in 
winch  all  the  light  comes  from  the  body  of  the 
child.  The  surprise  of  the  shepherds  is  most 
beautifully  expressed.  In  one  of  the  halls  there 
is  a  picture  by  Van  der  Werff,  in  which  the 
touching  story  of  Hagar  is  told  more  feelingly 
than  words  could  do  it.  Theyounglshmael  is  rep- 
resented full  of  grief  at  parting  with  Isaac,  who, 
in  childish  unconsciousness  of  what  has  taken 
place,  draws  in  sport  the  corner  of  his  mother's 
mantle  around  him,  and  smiles  at  the  tears  of 
his  lost  playmate.  Nothing  can  come  nearer 
real  flesh  and  blood  than  the  two  portraits  of 
Raphael  Mengs,  painted  by  himself  when  quite 
young.  You  almost  think  the  artist  has  ia 
sport  crept  behind  the  frame,  and  wishes  to 
make  you  believe  he  is  a  picture.  It  would  be 
impossible  to  speak  of  half  the  gems  of  art  con- 
tained in  this  unrivalled  collection.  There  are 
twelve  large  halls,  containing  in  all  nearly  two 
thousand  pictures. 

The  plain,  south  of  Dresden,  was  the  scene  of 
the  hard-fought  battle  between  Napoleon  and  the 
allied  armies,  in  1813.  On  the  heights  above  the 
little  village  of  Racknitz,Moreauwas  shot  ontlie 
second  day  of  the  battle.  We  took  a  footpath 
through  the  meadows,  shaded  by  cherry  trees  in 
bloom,  and  reached  the  spot  after  an  hour's 
walk.  The  monument  is  simple — a  square  block 
of  granite,  surmounted  by  a  helmet  and  sword, 
with  the  inscription,  "  The  hero  Moreau  fell  here 
by  the  side  of  Alexander,  August  17th,  7<97-9." 
I  gathered  as  a  memorial,  a  few  leaves  of  the  oak 
which  shades  it. 

By  applying  an  hour  before  the  appointed 
time,  we  obtained  admission  to  the  Royal 
Library.  It  contains  three  hundred  thousand 
volumes — among  them  the  most  complete collec- 


166  VIEWS    A-FOOT. 

tion  of  historical  works  in  existence.  Each  hall 
is  devoted  to  a  history  of  a  separate  country, 
and  one  large  room  is  filled  with  that  of  Saxony 
alone.  There  is  a  large  number  of  rare  and 
curious  manuscripts, amongwhich  are  old  Greek 
works  of  the  seventh  and  eighth  centuries:  a 
Koran  which  once  belonged  to  the  Sultan  l>aja- 
zet;  the  handwriting  of  Luther  andMelancthon  ; 
a  manuscript  volume  with  pen  and  ink  sketches, 
by  Albert  Durer,and  the  earliest  works  after  the 
invention  of  printing.  Among  these  latter 
a  book  published  by  Faust  and  Schaeffer.  at 
Mayence,  in  1457.  There  were  also  Mexican 
manuscripts,  written  on  the  Aloe  leaf,  and  many 
illuminated  monkish  volumes  of  the  middle  ages. 
We  were  fortunate  mBewngtheGraneGewdlbe, 
or  Green  Gallery,  a  collection  of  jewels  and  costly 
articles,  unsurpassed  in  Europe.  The  entrance 
is  only  granted  to  six  persons  at  a  time,  who 
pay  a  fee  of  two  thalers.  The  customary  way  is 
to  employ  a  Lohnbedienter,  who  goes  around 
from  one  hotel  to  another,  till  he  has  collected 
the  number,  when  he  brings  them  together  and 
conducts  them  to  the  person  in  the  palace,  who 
has  charge  of  the  treasures.  As  our  visit  hap- 
pened to Ibe  during  the  Pentecost  holidays,  when 
everybody  in  Dresden  goes  to  the  mountains, 
there  was  some  difficulty  in  effecting  this,  but 
after  two  mornings  spent  in  hunting  up  curious 
travellers,  the  servant  finally  conducted  us  ia 
triumph  to  the  palace.  The  first  hall  into  v  hi,  h 
we  were  ushered,  contained  works  in  bronze. 
They  were  all  small,  and  chosen  with  regard  to 
their  artistical  value.  Some  by  John  of  Bologn  i 
were  exceedingly  fine,  as  was  also  a  group  in 
iron,  cut  out  of  a  single  block ;  perhaps  the  only 
successful  attempt  in  this  branch.  The  next 
room  contained  statues,  and  vases  covered  with 
reliefs,  in  ivory.  The  most  remarkable  work 
was  the  fall  of  Lucifer  and  his  angels,  containing 
ninety -two  figures  in  all,  carved  out  of  a  single 


ROTAL    TREASURES.  118 

piece  of  ivory  sixteen  inches  high !  It  was  the 
work  of  an  Italian  monk,  and  cost  him  many 
years  of  hard  labor.  There  were  two  tables  of 
mosaic-work,  that  would  not  be  out  of  place  in 
the  fabled  halls  of  the  eastern  genii,  so  much  did 
they  exceed  my  former  ideas  of  human  skill. 
The  tops  were  of  jasper,  and  each  had  a  border 
of  fruit  and  flowers,  in  which  every  color  was 
represented  by  some  precious  stone,  all  with  the 
utmost  delicacy  and  truth  to  nature!  It  is 
impossible  to  conceive  the  splendid  effect  it  pro- 
duced. Besides  some  fine  pictures  on  gold  by 
Raphael  Mengs,  there  was  a  Madonna,  the  larg. 
est  specimen  of  enamel  painting  in  existence. 

However  costly  the  contents  of  these  halls, 
they  were  only  an  introduction  to  those  which 
followed.  Each  one  exceeded  the  other  in  splen- 
dor and  costliness.  The  walls  were  covered  to 
the  ceiling  with  rows  of  goblets,  vases,  &c.,  of 
polished  jasper,  agate  and  lapiz  lazuli.  Splendid 
mosaic  tables  stood  around,  with  caskets  ot  the 
most  exquisite  silver  and  j^oil  work  upon  them, 
and  vessels  of  solid  silver,  some  ~f  them  weigh- 
ing six  hundred  pounds,  were  placed  at  th.  foot 
of  the  columns.  We  were  shown  two  goblets, 
each  prized  at  six  thousand  thalers,  made  of 
gold  and  precious  stones;  als^  '-in  great  pearl 
called  the  Spanish  Dwarf,  nearly  as  lar^e  as  a 
pullet's  egg ;  globes  and  vases  cut  entirely  out 
of  the  mountain  crystal;  magnificent  Nuremberg 
•vatches  and  clocks,  and  a  great  number  of 
figures,  made  ingeniously  of  rough  pearls  and 
diamonds.  The  officer  showed  us  a  hen's  egg  of 
silver.  There  was  apparently  nothing  remark- 
able about  it,  but  by  unscrewing,  it  came  apart, 
and  disclosed  the  yelk  of  gold.  This  agaiu 
opened  and  a  golden  chicken  was  seen:  by  touch- 
ing a  spring,  a  little  diamond  crown  came  from 
the  inside,  and  the  crown  bein^  again  taken 
apart,  out  dropped  a  valuable  diamond  ring! 
seventh  hall  contains  the  coronation  robes 


168  VIEWS  A-FOOT 

of  Augustus  II.,  of  Poland,  and  many  costly 
specimens  of  carving  in  wood.  A  cherry-stone  is 
shown  in  a  glass  case,  which  has  one  hundred 
and  twenty-five  faces,  all  perfectly  finished, 
carved  upon  it !  The  next  room  we  entered  sent 
back  a  glare  of  splendor  that  perfectly  dazzled 
us.  It  was  all  gold,  diamond,  ruby  and  sap- 
phire! Every  case  sent  out  such  a  glow  and 
flitter  that  it  seemed  like  a  cage  of  imprisoned 
ghtnings.  Wherever  the  eye  turned  it  was  met 
by  a  blaze  of  broken  rainbows.  They  were  there 
by  hundreds,  and  every  gem  was  a  fortune. 
Whole  cases  of  swords,  with  hilts  and  scabbards 
of  solid  gold,  studded  with  gems;  the  great 
two-handed  coronation  sword  of  the  German 
emperors;  daggers  covered  with  brilliants  and 
rubies;  diamond  buttons,  chains  and  orders, 
necklaces  and  bracelets  of  pearl  and  emerald, 
and  the  order  of  the  Golden  Fleece  made  in  gems 
of  every  kind.  We  were  also  shown  the  largest 
known  onyx,  nearly  seven  inches  long  and  four 
inches  broad!  One  of  the  most  remarkable 
works  is  the  throne  and  court  of  Aurungzebe, 
the  Indian  king,  by  Dinglinger,  a  celebrated 

goldsmith  of  the  last  century.  It  contains  one 
undred  and  thirty-two  figures,  all  of  enamelled 
gold,  and  each  one  most  perfectly  and  elabo- 
rately finished.  It  was  purchased  by  Prince 
Augustus  for  fifty-eight  thousand  thalers,*  which 
«ras  not  a  high  sum,  considering  that  the  mak- 
ing of  it  occupied  Dinglinger  and  thirteen  work- 
men for  seven  years. 

It  is  almost  impossible  to  estimate  the  treas- 
ures these  halls  contain.  That  of  the  gold  and 
jewels  alone  must  be  many  millions  of  dollars, 
and  the  amount  of  labor  expended  on  these  toys 
of  royalty  is  incredible.  As  monuments  of  pa- 
tient and  untiring  toil,  they  are  interesting; 
but  it  is  sad  to  think  how  much  labor  and  skill 

•A  Prussian  or  Saxon  thaler  is  about  70  cent*. 


SAXON  SWITZERLAND.  169 

and  energy  have  been  wasted,  in  producing 
things  which  are  useless  to  the  world,  and  only 
of  secondary  importance  as  works  of  art.  Per- 
haps, however,  if  men  could  be  diverted  by  such 
play-things  from  more  dangerous  games,  it 
would  be  all  the  better. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

RAMBLES   IN   THE   SAXON   SWITZERLAND. 

After  four  days'  sojourn  in  Dresden  we  shoul- 
dered our  knapsacks,  not  to  be  laid  down  again 
till  we  reached  Prague.  We  were  elated  with  the 
prospect  of  getting  among  the  hills  again,  and 
we  heeded  not  the  frequent  showers  which  had 
dampened  the  enjoyment  of  the  Pentecost  holi- 
days, to  the  good  citizens  of  Dresden,  and  might 
spoil  our  own.  So  we  trudged  gaily  along  the 
road  to  Pillnitz  and  waved  an  adieu  to  the 
domes  behind  us  as  the  forest  shut  them  out 
from  view.  After  two  hours'  walk  the  road  led 
down  to  the  Elbe,  where  we  crossed  in  a  ferry- 
boat to  Pillnitz,  the  seat  of  a  handsome  palace 
and  gardens,  belonging  to  the  King  of  Saxony. 
He  happened  to  be  there  at  the  time,  on  an  af- 
ternoon excursion  from  Dresden;  as  we  had 
seen  him  before,  in  the  latter  place,  we  passed 
directly  on,  only  pausing  to  admire  the  flower- 
beds in  the  palace  court.  The  King  is  a  tall,  be- 
nevolent looking  man,  and  is  apparently  much 
liked  by  his  people.  As  far  as  I  have  yet  seen, 
Saxony  is  a  prosperous  and  happy  country. 
The  people  are  noted  all  over  Germany  for  their 
honest.,  social  character,  which  is  written  on 
their  cheerful,  open  countenances.  On  our  en- 
trance into  the  Saxon  Switzerland,  at  Pillnitz, 


m  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

we  were  delighted  with  the  neatness  and  horn* 
like  appearance  of  everything.  Every  body 
greeted  us ;  if  we  asked  for  information,  they 
gave  it  cheerfully.  The  villages  were  all  pleas- 
ant and  clean  and  the  meadows  fresh  and 
blooming.  I  felt  half  tempted  to  say,  in  the 
words  of  an  old  ballad,  which  I  believe  Longfel- 
low has  translated : 

•*  The  fairest  kingdom  on  this  earth, 
It  is  the  Saxon  land  I" 

Going  along  the  left  bank  of  the  Elbe,  we 
passed  over  meadows  purple  with  the  tri-colored 
violet,  which  we  have  at  home  in  gardens,  and 
every  little  bank  was  bright  with  cowslips.  At 
length  the  path  led  down  into  a  cleft  or  ravine 
filled  with  trees,  whose  tops  were  on  a  level  with 
the  country  around.  This  is  a  peculiar  feature 
of  Saxon  scenery.  The  country  contains  many 
of  these  clefts,  some  of  which  are  several  hun- 
dred feet  deep,  having  walls  of  perpendicular 
rock,  in  whose  crevices  the  mountain  pine  roots 
itself  and  grows  to  a  tolerable  height  without 
any  apparent  soil  to  keep  it  alive.  We  de- 
scended by  a  foot-path  into  this  ravine,  called 
the  Liebethaler  Grund.  It  is  wider  than  many 
of  the  others,  having  room  enough  for  a  con- 
siderable stream  and  several  mills.  The  sides 
are  of  sandstone  rock,  quite  perpendicular.  As 
we  proceeded,  it  grew  narrower  and  deeper, 
while  the  trees  covering  its  sides  and  edges 
nearly  shut  out  the  sky.  An  hour's  walk 
brought  us  to  the  end,  where  we  ascended  grad- 
ually to  the  upper  level  again. 

After  passing  the  night  at  the  little  village  of 
Uttewalde,  a  short  distance  further,  we  set  out 
early  in  the  morning  for  the  Bastei,  a  lofty  pre- 
cipice on  the  Elbe.  The  way  led  us  directly 
through  the  Uttewalder  Grund,  the  most  re- 
markable of  all  these  chasms.  We  went  down  by 


THE  BASTEf.  171 

steps  into  its  depths,  which  in  the  early  morn- 
ing  were  very  cold.  Water  dripped  from  the 
rocks,  which  but  a  few  feet  apart,  rose  far 
above  us,  and  a  little  rill  made  its  way  along 
the  bottom,  into  which  the  sun  has  never  shone. 
Heavy  masses  of  rock,  which  had  tumbled  down 
from  the  sides  lay  in  the  way,  and  tall  pine  trees 
sprung  from  every  cleft.  In  one  place  the  defile 
is  only  four  feet  wide,  and  a  large  mass  of  rock, 
fallen  from  above,  has  lodged  near  the  bottom, 
making  an  arch  across,  under  which  the  trav- 
eller has  to  creep.  After  going  under  two  or 
three  arches  of  this  kind,  the  defile  widened,  and 
an  arrow  cut  upon  a  rock  directed  us  to  a  side 
path,  which  branched  off  from  this  into  a  mount- 
ain. Here  the  stone  masses  immediately  as- 
sumed another  form.  They  projected  out  like 
shelves  sometimes  as  much  as  twenty  feet  from 
the  straight  side,  and  hung  over  the  way,  look- 
ing as  if  they  might  break  off  every  moment. 
I  felt  glad  when  we  had  passed  under  them. 
Then  as  we  ascended  higher,  we  saw  pillars  of 
rock  separated  entirely  from  the  side  and  rising 
a  hundred  feet  in  height,  with  trees  growing  on 
their  summits.  They  stood  there  gray  and  time- 
worn,  like  the  ruins  of  a  Titan  temple. 

The  path  finally  led  us  out  into  the  forest  and 
through  the  clustering  pine  trees,  to  the  summit 
of  the  Bastei.  An  inn  has  been  erected  in  the 
woods  and  an  iron  balustrade  placed  around  the 
rock.  Protected  by  this,  we  advanced  to  the 
end  of  the  precipice  and  looked  down  to  the 
swift  Elbe,  more  than  seven  hundred  feet  below ! 
Opposite  through  the  blue  mists  of  morning, 
rose  Konigstein,  crowned  with  an  impregnable 
fortress,  and  the  crags  of  Lilienstein,  with  a  fine 
forest  around  their  base,  frowned  from  the  left 
bank.  On  both  sides  were  horrible  precipices  of 
gray  rock,  with  rugged  trees  hanging  from  the 
crevicea.  A  hill  rising  up  from  one  side  of  the 
Bastei,  terminates  .suddenly  a  short  distance 


172  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

from  it,  in  an  abrupt  precipice.  In  the  inter- 
vening  space  stand  three  or  four  of  those  rock- 
columns,  several  hundred  feet  high,  with  their 
tops  nearly  on  a  level  with  the  Bastei.  A  wooden 
bridge  has  been  made  across  from  one  to  the 
other,  over  which  the  traveller  passes,  looking 
on  the  trees  and  rocks  far  below  him,  to  the 
mountain,  where  a  steep  zigzag  path  takes  him 
to  the  Elbe  below. 

We  crossed  the  Elbe  for  the  fourth  time  at  the 
foot  of  the  Bastei,  and  walked  along  its  right 
bank  towards  Konigstein.'  The  injury  caused 
by  the  inundation  was  everywhere  apparent. 
The  receding  flood  had  left  a  deposit  of  sand, 
in  many  places  several  feet  deep  on  the  rich 
meadows,  so  that  the  labor  of  years  will  be  req- 
uisite to  remove  it  and  restore  the  land  to  an 
arable  condition.  Even  the  farm-houses  on  the 
hillside,  some  distance  from  the  river,  had  been 
reached,  and  the  long  grass  hung  in  the  highest 
branches  of  the  fruit  trees.  The  people  were  at 
work  trying  to  repair  their  injuries,  but  it  will 
fall  heavily  upon  the  poorer  classes. 

The  mountain  of  Konigstein  is  twelve  hundred 
feet  in  height.  A  precipice,  varying  from  one  to 
three  hundred  feet  in  height,  runs  entirely 
around  the  summit,  which  is  flat,  and  a  mile  and 
a  half  in  circumference.  This  has  been  turned 
into  a  fortress,  whose  natural  advantages  make 
it  entirely  impregnable.  During  the  Thirty 
Years'  War  and  the  late  war  with  Napoleon,  it 
was  the  only  place  in  Saxony  unoccupied  by  the 
enemy.  Hence  it  is  used  as  a  depository  for  the 
archives  and  royal  treasures,  in  times  of  danger. 
By  giving  up  our  passports  at  the  door,  we  re- 
ceived permission  to  enter;  the  officer  called  a 
guide  to  take  us  around  the  battlements.  There 
is  quite  a  little  village  on  the  summit,  with  gar- 
dens, fields,  and  a  wood  of  considerable  size.  The 
only  entrance  is  by  a  road  cut  through  the  rock, 
which  is  strongly  guarded.  A  well  seven  hun- 


THE  FORTRESS  OF  KONIGSTEItf.       173 

dred  feet  deep  supplies  the  fortress  with  water, 
and  there  are  storehouses  sufficient  to  hold  sup- 
plies for  many  years.  The  view  from  the  ram- 
parts is  glorious — it  takes  in  the  whole  of  the 
Saxon  Highlands,  as  far  as  the  lofty  Schneeberg 
in  Bohemia.  On  the  other  side  the  eye  follows 
the  windings  of  the  Elbe,  as  far  as  the  spires  of 
Dresden.  Lilienstein,  a  mountain  of  exactly 
similar  formation,  but  somewhat  higher,  stands 
directly  opposite.  On  walking  around,  the 
guide  pointed  out  a  little  square  tower  standing 
on  the  bank  of  a  precipice,  with  a  ledge,  about 
two  feet  wide,  running  around  it,  just  below  the 
windows.  He  said  during  the  reign  of  Augustus 
the  Strong,  a  baron  attached  to  his  court,  rose 
in  his  sleep  after  a  night  of  revelry,  and  stepping 
out  of  the  window,  stretched  himself  at  full 
length  along  the  ledge.  A  guard  fortunately 
observed  his  situation  and  informed  Augustus 
of  it,  who  had  him  bound  and  secured  with  cords, 
and  then  awakened  by  music.  It  was  a  good 
lesson,  and  one  which  no  doubt  sobered  him  for 
the  future. 

Passing  through  the  little  city  of  Konigstein, 
we  walked  on  to  Schandau,  the  capital  of  the 
Saxon  Switzerland,  situated  on  the  left  bank. 
It  had  sustained  great  damage  from  the  fioodr 
the  whole  place  having  been  literally  under 
water.  Here  we  turned  up  a  narrow  valley 
which  led  to  the  Kuhstall,  some  eight  miles  dis- 
tant. The  sides,  as  usual,  were  of  steep  gray 
rock,  but  wide  enough  apart  to  give  room  to 
gome  lovely  meadows,  with  here  and  there  a 
rustic  cottage.  The  mountain  maidens,  in  their 
bright  red  dresses,  with  a  fanciful  scarf  bound 
around  the  head,  made  a  romantic  addition  to 
the  scene.  There  were  some  quiet  secluded 
nooks,  where  the  light  of  day  stole  in  dimly 
through  the  thick  foliage  above  and  the  wild 
Btream  rushed  less  boisterously  over  the  rocks. 
We  sat  down  to  rest  in  one  of  these  cool  re- 


174  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

treats,  and  made  the  glen  ring  with  a  cheer  for 
America.  The  echoes  repeated  the  name  as  if 
they  had  heard  it  for  the  first  time,  and  I  gave 
them  a  strict  injunction  to  give  it  back  to  the 
next  countryman  who  should  pass  by. 

As  we  advanced  further  into  the  hills  the  way 
became  darker  and  wilder.  We  heard  the  sound 
of  falling  water  in  a  little  dell  on  one  side,  and 

foing  nearer,  saw  a  picturesque  fall  of  about 
fbeen  feet.  Great  masses  of  black  rock  were 
piled  together,  over  which  the  mountain-stream 
fell  in  a  snowy  sheet.  The  pines  above  and 
around  grew  so  thick  and  close,  that  not  a  sun- 
beam could  enter,  and  a  kind  of  mysterious 
twilight  pervaded  the  spot.  In  Greece  it  would 
have  been  chosen  for  an  oracle.  I  have  seen, 
somewhere,  a  picture  of  the  Spirit  of  Poetry, 
sitting  beside  just  such  a  cataract,  and  truly  the 
nymph  could  choose  no  more  appropriate  dwell- 
ing. But  alas  for  sentiment  I  while  we  were  ad- 
miring its  picturesque  beauty,  we  did  not  notice 
a  man  who  came  from  a  hut  near  by  and  went 
up  behind  the  rocks.  All  at  once  there  was  a 
roar  of  water,  and  a  real  torrent  came  pouring 
down.  I  looked  up,  and  lo!  there  he  stood, 
with  a  gate  in  his  hand  which  had  held  the  water 
imprisoned,  looking  down  at  us  to  observe  the 
effect.  I  motioned  him  to  shut  it  up  again,  and 
he  ran  down  to  us,  lest  he  should  lose  his  fee  for 
the  "sight!" 

Our  road  now  left  the  valley  and  ascended 
through  a  forest  to  the  Kuhstall,  which  we 
earne  upon  at  once.  It  is  a  remarkable  natural 
arch,  through  a  rocky  wall  or  rampart,  one 
hundred  and  fifty  feet  thick.  Going  through, 
we  came  at  the  other  end  to  the  edge  of  a  very 
deep  precipice,  while  the  rock  towered  precipi- 
tously far  above.  Below  lay  a  deep  circular 
valley,  two  miles  in  diameter,  and  surrounded 
on  every  side  by  ranges  of  crags,  such  as  wo 
saw  on  the  Bastei.  It  was  entirely  covered  with 


Iff 

a  pine  forest,  and  there  only  appeared  to  be  two 
or  three  narrow  defiles  which  gave  it  a  commu- 
nication with  the  world.  The  top  of  the 
Kuhstall  can  be  reached  by  a  path  wnieh  runs 
up  through  a  split  in  the  rock,  directly  to  the 
summit.  Jt  is  just  wide  enough  for  one  person 
to  squeeze  himself  through;  pieces  of  wood 
have  been  fastened  in  as  steps,  and  the  rocks  in 
many  places  close  completely  above.  The  place 
derives  its  name  from  having  been  used  by  the 
mountaineers  as  a  hiding-place  for  their  cattle 
in  time  of  war. 

Next  morning  we  descended  by  another  crevice 
in  the  rock  to  the  lonely  valley,  which  we 
crossed,  and  climbed  the  Little  Winterberg  on 
the  opposite  side.  There  is  a  wide  and  rugged 
view  from  a  little  tower  on  a  precipitous  rock 
near  the  summit,  erected  to  commemorate  the 
escape  of  Prince  Augustus  of  Saxony,  who,  be- 
ing pursued  by  a  mad  stag,  rescued  himself  on 
the  very  brink,  by  a  lucky  blow.  Among  the 
many  wild  valleys  that  lay  between  the  hills,  we 
saw  scarcely  one  without  the  peculiar  rocky  for- 
mation which  gives  to  Saxon  scenery  its  most 
interesting  character.  They  resemble  the  re- 
mains of  some  mighty  work  of  art,  rather  than 
one  of  the  thousand  varied  forms  in  which 
Nature  delights  to  clothe  herself. 

The  Great  AVinterberg,  which  is  reached  by 
another  hour's  walk  along  an  elevated  ridge,  is 
the  highest  of  the  mountains,  celebrated  for  the 
grand  view  from  its  summit.  We  found  the 
handsome  Swiss  hotel  recently  built  there,  full 
of  tourists  who  had  come  to  enjoy  the  scene,  but 
the  moriJng  clouds  hid  every  thing.  We  as- 
cended the  tower,  and  looking  between  them  as 
they  rolled  by,  caught  glimpses  of  the  broad 
landscape  below.  The  Giant's  Mountains  in 
Silesia  were  hidden  by  the  mist,  but  sometimes 
when  the  wind  freshened,  we  could  see  be3rond 
the  Elbe  into  Bohemian  Switzerland,  where  the 


171  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

long  Schneeberg  rose  conspicuously  above  tin 
smaller  mountains.  Leaving  the  other  trav- 
ellers to  wait  at  their  leisure  for  clearer  weather, 
we  set  off  for  the  Prebischthor,  in  company  A\*Kh 
two  or  three  students  from  the  Polytechnic 
School  in  Dresden.  An  hour's  walk  over  high 
hills,  whose  forest  clothing  had  been  swept  off 
by  fire  a  few  years  before,  brought  us  to  it. 

The  Prebischthor  is  a  natural  arch,  ninety  feet 
high,  in  a  wall  of  rock  which  projects  at  right 
angles  from  the  precipitous  side  of  the  mount- 
ain. A  narrow  path  leads  over  the  top  of  the 
arch  to  the  end  of  the  rock,  where,  protected  by 
a  railing,  the  traveller  seems  to  hang  in  the  ;tir. 
The  valley  is  far  below  him — mountains  rise  up 
on  either  side — and  only  the  narrow  bridge  con- 
nects him  with  the  earth.  We  descended  by  a 
wooden  staircase  to  the  bottom  of  the  arch, 
near  which  a.  rustic  inn  is  built  against  the  rock, 
and  thence  into  the  valley  below,  which  we  fol- 
lowed through  rude  and  lonely  scenery,  the  Hir- 
nischkretschen  (!)  on  the  Elbe. 

Crossing  the  river  again  for  the  sixth  and  last 
time,  we  followed  the  right  bank  to  Neidergrund, 
the  first  Austrian  village.  Here  our  passports 
were  vised  for  Prague,  and  we  were  allowed  to 
proceed  without  any  examination  of  baggage. 
I  noticed  a  manifest  change  in  our  fellow  travel- 
lers the  moment  we  crossed  the  border.  They 
appeared  anxious  and  careful ;  if  we  happened 
to  speak  of  the  state  of  the  country,  they  always 
looked  around  to  see  if  anybody  was  near,  and 
if  we  even  passed  a  workman  on  the  road, 
quickly  changed  to  some  other  subject.  They 
.spoke  much  of  the  jealous  strictness  of  the  gov- 
ernment, and  from  what  I  heard  from  Austrians 
themselves,  there  may  have  been  ground  for 
their  cautiousness. 

We  walked  seven  or  eight  miles  along  the  bank 
of  the  Elbe,  to  Tetschen,  there  left  our  compan- 
ions and  took  the  road  to  Teplitz.  The  scenery 


BOHEMIA.  17? 

was  very  picturesque;  it  must  be  delightful  to 
float  down  the  swift  current  in  a  boat,  as  we  saw 
several  merry  companies  do.  The  river  is  just 
small  enough  and  the  banks  near  enough 
together,  to  render  such  a  mode  of  travelling 
delightful,  and  the  strength  of  the  current  would 
carry  one  to  Dresden  in  a  day.  . 

I  was  pleasantly  disappointed  on  entering 
Bohemia.  Instead  of  a  dull,  uninteresting 
country,  as  I  expected,  it  is  a  land  full  of  the 
most  lovely  scenery.  There  is  every  thing  which 
can  gratify  the  eye — high  blue  mountains,  val- 
leys of  the  sweetest  pastoral  look  and  romantic 
old  ruins.  The  very  name  of  Bohemia  is  associ- 
ated with  wild  and  wonderful  legends,  of  the  rude 
barbaric  ages.  Even  the  chivalric  tales  of  the 
feudal  times  of  Germany  grow  tame  besidethese 
earlier  and  darker  histories.  The  fallen  fortresses 
of  the  Rhine,  or  the  robber-castles  of  the  Oden- 
wald  had  not  for  me  so  exciting  an  interest  as 
the  shapeless  ruins  cumbering  these  lonely 
mountains.  The  civilized  Saxon  race  was  left 
behind ;  I  saw  around  me  the  features  and  heard 
the  language  of  one  of  those  rude  Sclavonic 
tribes,  whose  original  home  was  on  the  vast 
steppes  of  Central  Asia.  I  have  rarely  enjoyed 
travelling  more  than  our  first  two  days'  journey 
towards  Prague.  The  range  of  the  Erzgebirge 
ran  along  on  our  right ;  the  snow  still  lay  in 
patches  upon  it,  but  the  valleys  between,  with 
their  little  clusters  of  white  cottages,  were  green 
and  beautiful.  About  six  miles  before  reaching 
Teplitz,  we  passed  Kulm,  the  great  battle-field, 
which  in  a  measure  decided  the  fate  of  Napoleon. 
He  sent  Vandamme  with  40,000  men  to  attack 
the  allies  before  they  could  unite  their  forces, 
and  thus  effect  their  complete  destruction. 
Only  the  almost  despairing  bravery  of  the  Rus- 
sian guards  under  Ostermann,  who  held  him  in 
check  till  the  allied  troops  united,  prevented 
Napoleon's  design.  At  the  junction  of  the 


178  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

roads,  where  the  fighting  was  hottest,  the  Aus- 
trians  have  erected  a  monument  to  one  of  their 
generals.  Not  far  from  it  is  that  of  Prussia, 
simple  and  tasteful.  A  woody  hill  near,  with  the 
little  village  of  Kulm  at  its  foot,  was  the  station 
occupied  by  Vandamrne  at  the  commencement 
of  the  battle.  There  is  now  a  beautiful  chapel 
on  its  summit,  which  can  be  seen  far  and  wide. 
A  little  distance  further,  the  Emperor  of  Russia 
has  erected  a  third  monument  to  the  memory  of 
the  Russians  who  fell.  Four  lions  rest  on  the 
base  of  the  pedestal,  and  on  top  of  the  shaft, 
forty-five  feet  high,  Victory  is  represented  as 
engraving  the  date,  "Aug.  30,  1813,"  on  a 
shield.  The  dark,  pine-covered  mountains  on 
the  right,  overlook  the  whole  field  and  the  val- 
ley of  Teph'tz.  Napoleon  rode  along  their  crests 
several  days  after  the  battle,  to  witness  the 
scene  of  his  defeat. 

Teplitz  lies  in  a  lovely  valley,  several  miles 
wide,  bounded  by  the  Bohemian  mountains  on 
one  side,  and  the  Erzegebirge  on  the  other.  One 
straggling  peak  near  is  crowned  with  a  pict- 
uresque ruin,  at  whose  foot  the  spacious  bath- 
buildings  lie  half  hidden  in  foliage.  As  we  went 
down  the  principal  street,  I  noticed  nearly  every 
house  was  a  hotel;  we  learned  afterwards  that 
in  summer  the  usual  average  of  visitors  is  five 
thousand.  The  waters  resemble  those  of  the 
celebrated  Carlsbad ;  they  are  warm  and  partic- 
ularly efficacious  in  rheumatism  and  diseases  of 
like  character.  After  leaving  Teplitz,  the  road 
turned  to  the  east,  towards  a  lofty  mountain, 
which  we  had  seen  the  morning  before.  The 
peasants  as  they  passed  by,  saluted  us  with 
"  Christ  greet  you  I 

We  stopped  for  the  night  at  the  foot  of  the 
peak  called  the  Milleschauer,  and  must  have 
ascended  nearly  2,000  feet,  for  we  had  a  wide 
view  the  next  morning,  although  the  mists  and 
clouds  hid  the  half  of  it.  The  weather  being  so 


LOBOSTTZ  AND  THERESIENSTADT.     ITtt 

unfavorable,  we  concluded  not  to  ascend,  and 
taking  leave  of  the  Jena  student  who  came 
there  for  that  purpose,  descended  through  green 
fields  and  orchards  snowy  with  blossoms,  to 
Lobositz,  on  the  Elbe.  Here  we  reached  the 
plains  again,  where  every  thing  wore  the  luxu- 
riance of  summer;  it  was  a  pleasant  change  from 
the  dark  and  rough  scenery  we  left.  The  road 
passed  through  Theresienstadt,  the  fortress  of 
Northern  Bohemia.  The  little  city  is  surrounded 
by  a  double  wall  and  moat,  which  can  be  filled 
with  water,  rendering  it  almost  impossible  to 
be  taken.  In  the  morning  we  were  ferried  over 
the  Mold  an,  and  after  journeying  nearly  all  day 
across  barren,  elevated  plains,  saw  late  in  the 
after  no  on  the  sixty-seven  spires  of  Prague  below 
us !  The  dark  clouds  which  hung  over  the  hills, 
gave  us  little  time  to  look  upon  the  singular 
Bcene;  and  we  were  Boon  comfortably  settled 
in  the  half-barbaric,  half-Asiatic  city,  with  a 
pleasant  prospect  of  seeing  its  wonders  on  the 
morrow. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

SCENES  IN  PRAGUE. 

Prague.— 1  feel  as  if  out  of  the  world,  in  this 
strange,  fantastic,  yet  beautiful  old  city.  We  have 
been  rambling  all  morning  through  its  winding 
streets,  stopping  sometimes  at  a  church  to  see 
the  dusty  tombs  and  shrines,  or  to  hear  the  fine 
music  which  accompanies  the  morning  mass. 
I  have  seen  no  city  yet  that  BO  forcibly  reminds 
one  of  the  past,  and  makes  him  forget  every- 
thing but  the  associations  connected  with  the 
scenes  around  him.  The  language  adds  to  the 


1 80  VIE  WS  A-FO  O  T. 

illusion.  Three-fourths  of  the  people  in  tin 
streets  speak  Bohemian  and  many  ot  the  signs 
are  written  in  the  same  tongue,  which  is  not  at 
all  like  German.  The  palace  of  the  Bohemian 
kings  still  looks  down  on  the  city  from  the  west- 
ern heights,  and  their  tombs  stand  in  the  Cathe- 
dral of  the  holy  Johannes.  When  one  luis 
climbed  up  the  stone  steps  leading  to  the  fort- 
ress, there  is  a  glorious  prospect  before  him. 
Prague,  with  its  spires  and  towers,  lies  in  the 
valley  below,  through  which  curves  11  te  Moldau 
with  its  green  islands,  disappearing  among  the 
hills  which  enclose  the  city  on  every  side.  The 
fantastic  Byzantine  architecture  of  iminy  of  the 
churches  and  towers,  gives  the  city  a  peculiar 
oriental  appearance;  it  seems  to  have  been 
transported  from  the  hills  of  Syria.  Its  stn-. -1s 
are  full  of  palaces,  fallen  and  "dwelt  in  now  by 
the  poorer  classes.  Its  famous  1'niversity, 
which  once  boasted  forty  thousand  students, 
has  long  since  ceased  to  exist.  In  a  word,  it  is, 
like  Venice,  a  fallen  city;  though  as  in  Venice, 
the  improving  spirit  of  the  age  is  beginning  to 
give  it  a  little  life,  and  to  send  a  quicker  stream 
through  its  narrow  and  winding  arteries.  The 
railroad,  which,  joiningthat to Briinn,  shall  bring 
it  in  connection  with  Vienna,  will  be  finished 
this  year;  in  anticipation  of  the  increased  "busi- 
ness which  will  arise  from  this,  speculators  are 
building  enormous  hotels  in  the  suburbs,  and 
tearing  down  the  old  buildings  to  give  place  to 
more  splendid  edifices.  These  operations,  and 
the  chain  bridge  which  spans  the  Moldau  to- 
wards the  southern  end  of  the  city,  are  the  only 
things  which  look  modern — every  thing  else  is 
old,  strange  and  solemn. 

Having  found  out  first  a  few  of  the  locations, 
we  hunted  our  way  with  difficulty  through  its 
labyrinths,  seeking  out  every  place  of  note  or 
interest.  Reaching  the  bridge  at  last,  we  con- 
cluded to  cross  over  and  ascend  to  the  Hrad- 


JOHANNES  OF  NEPOMUCK.  181 

•chin — the  palace  of  the  Bohemian  kings.  The 
bridge  was  commenced  in  1357,  and  was  one 
hundred  and  fifty  years  in  building.  That  was 
the  way  the  old  Germans  did  their  work,  and 
they  made  a  structure  which  will  last  a  thou- 
sand years  longer.  Every  pier  is  surmounted 
with  groups  of  saints  and  martyrs,  all  so  worn 
and  time-beaten,  that  there  is  little  left  of  their 
beauty,  if  they  ever  had  any.  The  most  impor- 
tant of  them,  at  least  to  Bohemians,  is  that  of 
the  holy  "Johannes  of  Nepomuck,"  now  consid- 
ered as  the  patron-saint  of  the  land.  He  was  a 
priest  many  centuries  ago,  whom  one  of  the 
kings  threw  from  the  bridge  into  the  Moldau, 
because  he  refused  to  reveal  to  him  what  the 
queen  confessed.  The  legend  says  the  body 
swam  for  some  time  on  the  river,  with  five  stars 
around  its  head.  The  16th  of  May,  the  day  be- 
fore we  arrived,  was  that  set  apart  for  his  par- 
ticular  honor;  the  statue  on  the  bridge  was 
covered  with  an  arch  of  green  boughs  and 
flowers,  and  the  shrine  lighted  with  burning 
tapers.  A  railing  was  erected  around  it,  near 
which  numbers  of  the  believers  were  kneeling, 
and  a  priest  stood  in  the  inside.  The  bridge 
was  covered  with  passers-by,  who  all  took  their 
hats  off  till  they  had  passed.  Had  it  been  a 
place  of  public  worship,  the  act  would  have 
been  natural  and  appropriate,  but  to  uncover 
before  a  statue  seemed  to  us  too  much  like 
idolatry,  and  we  ventured  over  without  doing 
it.  A  few  years  ago  it  might  have  been  danger- 
ous, but  now  we  only  met  with  scowling  looks. 
There  are  many  such  shrines  and  statues 
through  the  city,  and  I  noticed  that  the  people 
always  took  off  their  hats  and  crossed  them- 
selves in  passing.  On  the  hill  above  the  western 
end  of  the  city,  stands  a  chapel  on  the  spot 
where  the  Bavarians  put  an  end  to  Protestant- 
ism in  Bohemia  by  the  sword,  and  the  deluded 
peasantry  of  the  land  make  pilgrimages  to  this 


182  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

spot,  as  if  it  were  rendered  holy  by  an  act  over 
which  Religion  weeps. 

Ascending  the  broad  flight  of  steps  to  the 
Hradschin,  I  paused  a  moment  to  look  at  the 
scene  below.  A  slight  blue  haze  hung  over  the 
clustering  towers,  and  the  city  looked  dim 
through  it,  like  a  city  seen  in  a  dream.  It  was 
well  that  it  should  so  appear,  for  not  less  dim 
and  misty  are  the  memories  that  haunt  its  walls. 
There  was  no  need  of  a  magician's  wand  to  bid 
that  light  cloud  shadow  forth  the  forms  of  other 
times.  They  came  uncalled  for,  even  by  fancy. 
Far,  far  back  in  the  past,  I  saw  the  warrior- 
princess  who  founded  the  kingly  city — the  re- 
nowned Libussa,  whose  prowess  and  talent  in- 
spired the  women  of  Bohemia  to  rise  at  her 
death  and  storm  the  land  that  their  sex  might 
rule  where  it  obeyed  before.  On  the  mountain 
opposite  once  stood  the  palace  of  the  bloody 
Wlaska,  who  reigned  with  her  Amazon  band  for 
seven  years  over  half  Bohemia.  Those  streets 
below  had  echoed  with  the  fiery  words  of  Huss, 
and  the  castle  of  his  follower — the  blind  Ziska, 
who  met  and  defeated  the  armies  of  the  German 
Empire — moulders  on  the  mountain  above. 
Many  a  year  of  war  and  tempest  has  passed 
over  the  scene.  The  hills  around  have  borne  the 
armies  of  WaUenstein  and  Frederic  the  Great ; 
the  war-cry  of  Bavaria,  Sweden  and  Poland  has 
echoed  in  the  valley,  and  the  red  glare  of  the 
midnight  cannon  or  the  flames  of  burning  pal- 
aces have  often  gleamed  along  the  "  blood-dyed 
waters  "  of  the  Moldau! 

But  this  ^  was  a  day-dream.  The  throng  of 
people  coming  up  the  steps  waked  me  out  of  it. 
We  turned  and  followed  them  through  several 
spacious  courts,  till  we  arrived  at  the  Cathedral, 
which  is  magnificent  in  the  extreme.  The  dark 
Gothic  pillars,  whose  arches  unite  high  above, 
are  surrounded  with  gilded  monuments  and 
shrines,  and  the  side  chapels  are  rich  in  elabq- 


fffJS  ST.  NICHOLAS  CHURCH.  18* 

rate  decorations.  A  priest  was  speaking  from  a 
pulpit  in  the  centre,  in  the  Bohemian  language, 
which  not  being  the  most  intelligible,  I  went  to 
the  other  end  to  see  the  shrine  of  the  holy  Jo- 
hannes of  Nepomuck.  It  stands  at  the  end  of 
one  of  the  side  aisles  and  is  composed  of  a  mass 
of  gorgeous  silver  ornaments.  At  a  little  dis- 
tance on  each  side,  hang  four  massive  lamps  of 
silver,  constantly  burning.  The  pyramid  of 
statues,  of  the  same  precious  metal,  has  at  each 
corner  a  richly  carved  urn,  three  feet  high,  with 
a  crimson  lamp  burning  at  the  top.  Above, 
four  silver  angels,  the  size  of  life,  are  suspended 
in  the  air,  holding  up  the  corners  of  a  splendid 
drapery  of  crimson  and  gold.  If  these  figures 
were  melted  down  and  distributed  among  the 
poor  and  miserable  people  who  inhabit  Bohe- 
mia, they  would  then  be  angels  indeed,  bringing 
happiness  and  blessings  to  many  a  ruined  home- 
altar.  In  the  same  chapel  is  the  splended  burial- 
place  of  the  Bohemian  kings,  of  gilded  marble 
and  alabaster.  Numberless  tombs,  covered 
with  elaborate  ornamental  work,  fill  the  edifice. 
It  gi  ves  one  a  singular  feeling  to  stand  at  one 
end  and  look  down  the  lofty  hall,  dim  with  in- 
cense smoke  and  dark  with  the  weight  of  many 
centuries. 

On  the  way  down  again,  we  stepped  into  the 
St.  Nicholas  Church,  which  was  built  by  the  Jes- 
uits. The  interior  has  a  rich  effect,  being  all  of 
brown  and  gold.  The  massive  pillars  are  made 
to  resemble  reddish-brown  marble,  with  gilded 
capitals,  and  the  statues  at  the  base  are  pro- 
fusely ornamented  in  the  same  style.  The  music 
chained  me  there  a  long  time.  There  was  a 
grand  organ,  assisted  by  a  full  orchestra  and 
large  choir  of  singers.  It  was  placed  above,  and 
at  every  sound  of  the  priest's  bell,  the  flourish 
of  trumpets  ;in;l  deep  rolls  of  the  drums  filled 
the  dome  with  a  burst  of  quivering  sound,  while 
the  giant  pipes  of  the  organ  breathed  out  their 


184  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

full  harmony  and  the  very  air  shook  under  the 
peal.  It  was  like  a  triumphal  strain ;  the  soul 
became  filled  with  thoughts  of  power  and  glory 
— every  sense  was  changed  into  one  dim,  indis- 
tinct emotion  of  rapture,  which  held  the  spirit 
as  if  spell-bound.  I  could  almost  forgive  the 
Jesuits  the  superstition  and  bigotry  they  have 
planted  in  the  minds  of  men,  for  the  indescriba- 
ble enjoyment  that  music  gave.  When  it  ceased , 
we  went  out  to  the  world  again,  and  the  recol- 
lection of  it  seemed  now  like  a  dream — but  a 
dream  whose  influence  will  last  longer  than 
many  a  more  palpable  reality. 

Not  far  from  this  place  is  the  palace  of  Wallen- 
stein,  in  the  same  condition  as  when  he  inhab- 
ited it,  and  still  in  the  possession  of  his  descend- 
ants. It  is  a  plain,  large  building,  having  beau- 
tiful gardens  attached  to  it,  which  are  open  to 
the  public.  We  went  through  the  courtyard, 
threaded  a  passage  writh  a  roof  of  rough  sta- 
lactitic  rock,  and  entered  the  garden  where  a 
revolving  fountain  was  casting  up  its  glittering 
arches.  Among  the  flowers  at  the  other  end  of 
the  garden  there  is  a  remarkable  fountain.  It 
is  but  a  single  jet  of  water  which  rises  from  the 
middle  of  a  broad  basin  of  woven  wire,  but  by 
some  means  it  sustains  a  hallow  gilded  ball,  some- 
times for  many  minutes  at  a  time.  When  the 
ball  drops,  the  sloping  sides  of  the  basin  convey 
it  directly  to  the  fountain  again,  and  it  is  car- 
ried up  to  dance  a  while  longer  on  the  top  of  the 
l'et.  I  watched  it  once,  thus  supported  on  the 
water,  for  full  fifteen  minutes. 

There  is  another  part  of  Prague  which  is  not 
less  interesting,  though  much  less  poetical — the 
Jews'  City.  In  our  rambles  we  got  into  it  before 
we  were  aware,  but  hurried  immediately  out 
of  it  again,  perfectly  satisfied  with  one  visit.  We 
came  first  into  a  dark,  narrow  street,  whose 
sides  were  lined  with  booths  of  old  clothes  and 
second-hand  articles.  A  sharp  featured  old 


THE  JEWS'  QUARTER.  Itt 

woman  thrust  a  coat  before  my  face,  exclaiming, 
"Herr,  buy  a  fine  coat!"  instantly  a  man 
assailed  me  on  the  other  side,  "  Here  are  vests! 
pantaloons!  shirts!"  I  broke  loose  from  them 
and  ran  on,  but  it  only  became  worse.  One 
seized  me  by  the  arm,  crying,  "  Lieber  Herr, 
buy  some  stockings!"  and  another  grasped 
my  coat:  "Hats,  Herr!  hats!  buy  something 
or  sell  me  something!"  I  rushed  desperately 
on,  shouting,  "no!  no!"  with  all  my  might, 
and  finally  got  safe  through.  My  friend  having 
escaped  their  clutches  also,  we  hunted  the  way 
to  the  old  Jewish  cemetery.  This  stands  in  the 
middle  of  the  city,  and  has  not  been  used  for  a 
hundred  years.  We  could  find  no  entrance,  but 
by  climbing  upon  the  ruins  of  an  old  house  near, 
I  could  look  over  the  wall.  A  cold  shudder  crept 
over  me,  to  think  that  warm,  joyous  Life,  as  I 
then  felt  it,  should  grow  chill  and  pass  back  to 
clay  in  such  a  foul  charnel-house.  Large 
mounds  of  earth,  covered  with  black,  decaying 
grave-stones,  which  were  almost  hidden  under 
the  weeds  and  rank  grass,  filled  the  inclosure.  A 
few  dark,  crooked,  alder  trees  grew  among  the 
crumbling  tombs,  and  gave  the  scene  an  air  of 
gloom  and  desolation,  almost  fearful.  The 
dust  of  many  a  generation  lies  under  these 
mouldering  stones;  they  now  scarcely  occupy  a 
thought  in  the  minds  of  the  living;  and  yet  the 
present  race  toils  and  seeks  for  wealth  alone, 
that  it  may  pass  away  and  leave  nothing  behind 
—not  eveii'a  memory  for  that  which  will  follow  it. 


VIEWS  A- FOOT. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

JOURNEY    THROUGH    EASTERN    BOHEMIA   AND   MO 
KAVIA  TO  THE  DANUBE. 

Our  road  the  first  two  days  after  leaving 
Prague,  led  across  broad,  elevated  plains,  across 
which  a  cold  wind  came  direct  from  the  summits 
of  the  Riesengebirge,  far  to  our  left.  Were  it  not 
for  the  pleasant  view  we  had  of  the  rich  valley  of 
the  Upper  Elbe,  which  afforded  a  delightful  relief 
to  the  monotony  of  the  hills  around  us,  the 
journey  would  have  been  exceedingly  tiresome. 
The  snow  still  glistened  on  the  distant  mount- 
ains; but  when  the  sun  shone  out,  the  broad 
valley  below,  clad  in  the  luxuriance  of  summer, 
and  extending  for  at  least  fifty  miles  with  its 
woods,  meadows  and  white  villages,  looked  like 
a  real  Paradise.  The  long  ridges  over  which 
we  travelled  extend  for  nearly  a  hundred  and 
fifty  miles — from  the  Elbe  almost  to  the  Danube. 
The  soil  is  not  fertile,  the  inhabitants  are  ex- 
ceedingly poor,  and  from  our  own  experience, 
the  climate  must  be  unhealthy.  In  winter  the 
country  is  exposed  to  the  full  sweep  of  the  north- 
ern winds,  and  in  summer  the  sun  shines  down 
on  it  with  unbroken  force.  There  are  few 
streams  running  through  it,  and  the  highest 
part,  which  divides  the  waters  of  the  Baltic  from 
those  of  the  Black  Sea,  is  filled  for  a  long  dis- 
tance with,  marshes  and  standing  pools,  whose 
exhalations  must  inevitably  subject  the  inhabit- 
ants to  disease.  This  was  perceptible  in  their 
sallow,  sickly  countenances;  many  of  the  women 
are  afflicted  with  tho  goitre,  or  swelling  of  the 
throat;  I  noticed  that  towards  evening  they  al- 


BOHEMIAN  WATSIDE  SHRINES.      11? 

ways  carefully  muffled  up  their  faces.  Accord- 
ing to  their  own  statements,  the  people  suffer 
much  from  the  cold  in  winter,  as  the  few  forests 
the  country  affords  are  in  possession  of  the 
noblemen  to  whom  the  land  belongs,  and  they 
are  not  willing  to  let  them  be  cut  down.  The 
dominions  of  these  petty  despots  are  marked 
along  the  road  with  as  much  precision  as  the 
boundaries  of  an  empire;  wre  saw  sometimes 
their  stately  castles  at  a  distance,  forming  quite 
a  contrast  to  the  poor  scattering  villages  of  the 
peasants. 

At  Kollin,  the  road,  which  had  been  running 
eastward  in  the  direction  of  Olmutz,  turned  to 
the  south,  and  we  took  leave  of  the  Elbe,  after 
tracing  back  his  course  from  Magdeburg  nearly 
to  his  home  in  the  mountains  of  Silesia.  The 
country  was  barren  and  monotonous,  but  a 
bright  sunshine  made  it  look  some  what  cheerful. 
We  passed  every  few  paces,  some  shrine  or 
statue  by  the  roadside.  This  had  struck  me,  im- 
mediately on  crossing  the  border,  in  the  Saxon 
Switzerland — it  seemed  as  if  the  boundary  of 
Saxony  was  that  of  Protestantism.  But  herein 
the  heart  of  Bohemia,  the  extent  to  which  this 
image  worship  is  carried,  exceeds  anything  I 
had  imagined.  There  is  something  pleasing  as 
well  as  poetical  in  the  idea  of  a  shrine  by  the 
wayside,  where  the  weary  traveller  can  rest,  and 
raise  his  heart  in  thankfulness  to  the  Power 
that  protects  him;  it  was  no  doubt  a  pious  spirit 
that  placed  them  there;  but  the  people  appear  to 
pay  the  reverence  to  the  picture  which  they 
should  give  to  its  spiritual  image,  and  the  pict- 
ures themselves  are  so  shocking  and  ghastly, 
they  seem  better  calculated  to  excite  horror 
than  reverence.  It  was  really  repulsive  to  look 
on  images  of  the  Saviour  covered  with  blood,  and 
generally  with  swords  sticking  in  different  part! 
of  the  body.  The  Almighty  is  represented  as  al 
old  man,  wearing  a  Bishop's  mitre,  and  the 


168  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

image  of  the  Virgin  is  always  drest  in  a  gay 
Bilk  robe,  with  beads  and  other  ornaments. 
From  the  miserable  painting,  the  faces  often  had 
an  expression  that  would  have  been  exceedingly 
ludicrous,  if  the  shock  given  to  our  feelings  of 
reverence  were  not  predominant.  The  poor,  de- 
graded peasants  always  uncovered  or  crossed 
themselves  when  passing  by  these  shrines,  but  it 
appeared  to  be  rather  the  effect  of  habit  than 
any  good  impulse,  for  the  Bohemians  are  noted 
all  over  Germany  for  their  dishonesty ;  we  learned 
by  experience  they  deserve  it.  It  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at"  either;  for  a  people  so  poor  and 
miserable  and  oppressed  will  soon  learn  to  take 
advantage  of  all  who  appear  better  off  than 
themselves.  They  had  one  custom  which  was 
touching  and  beautiful.  At  the  sound  of  the 
church  bell,  as  it  rung  the  morning,  noon  and 
evening  chimes,  every  one  uncovered,  and  re- 
peated to  himself  a  prayer.  Often,  as  we  rested 
at  noon  on  a  bank  by  the  roadside,  that  voice 
spoke  out  from  the  house  of  worship  and  every 
one  heeded  its  tone.  "Would  that  to  this  innate 
spirit  of  reverence  were  added  the  light  of 
Knowledge,  which  a  tyrannical  government  de- 
nies them ! 

The  third  night  of  our  journey  we  stopped  at 
the  little  village  of  Stecken,  and  the  next  morn- 
ing, after  three  hours'  walk  over  the  ridgy 
heights,  reached  the  old  Moravian  city  of  Iglau, 
'  built  on  a  hill.  It  happened  to  be  Corpus 
Christi  day,  and  the  peasants  of  the  neighbor- 
hood were  hastening  there  in  their  gayest 
dresses.  The  young  women  wore  a  crimson 
scarf  around  the  head,  with  long  fringed  and  em- 
broidered ends  hanging  over  the  shoulders,  or 
falling  in  one  smooth  fold  from  the  back  of  the 
head.  They  were  attired  in  black  velvet  vests, 
with  full  white  sleeves  and  skirts  of  some  gay 
color,  which  were  short  enough  to  show  to  ad- 
vantage their  red  stockings  and  polished  shoe* 


STRANGE  TEAMS.  180 

buckles.  Many  of  them  were  not  deficient  In 
personal  beauty — there  was  a  gipsy-like  wildness 
in  their  eyes,  that  combined  with  their  rich  hair 
and  graceful  costume,  reminded  me  of  the  Italian 
maidens.  The  towns  too,  with  their  open 
squares  and  arched  passages,  have  quite  a 
southern  look;  but  the  damp,  gloomy  weather 
wns  enough  to  dispel  any  illusion  of  this  kind. 

In  the  neighborhood  of  Iglau,  and  in  fact, 
through  the  whole  of  Bohemia,  we  saw  some  of 
1  lie  strangost  teams  that  could  well  be  imagined. 
I  thought  the  Frankfort  milkwomen  with  their 
donkeys  and  hearse-like  carts,  were  comical  ob- 
jects enough,  but  they  bear  no  comparison  with 
these  Bohemian  turn-outs.  Dogs — for  econo- 
my's sake,  perhaps — generally  supply  the  place 
of  oxen  or  horses,  and  it  is  no  uncommon  thing 
to  see  three  large  mastiffs  abreast,  harnessed  to 
a  country  cart.  A  donkey  and  a  cow  together, 
are  sometimes  met  with,  and  one  man,  going  to 
the  festival  at  Iglau,  had  his  wife  and  children  in 
a  little  wagon,  drawn  by  a  dog  and  a  donkey. 
These  two,  however,  did  not  work  well  together ; 
the  dog  would  bite  his  lazy  companion,  and  the 
man's  time  was  constantly  employed  in  whip- 
ping him  off  the  donkey,  and  in  whipping  the 
donkey  away  from  the  side  of  the  road.  Once  I 
saw  a  wagon  drawn  by  a  dog,  with  a  woman 
pushing  behind ,  while  a  man,  doubtless  her  lord 
and  master,  sat  comfortably  within,  smoking 
his  pipe  with  the  greatest  complacency!  The 
very  climax  of  all  was  a  woman  and  a  dog  har- 
nessed together,  taking  a  load  of  country  pro- 
duce to  market!  I  hope,  for  the  honor  of  the 
country,  it  was  not  emblematic  of  woman's  con- 
dition there.  But  as  we  saw  hundreds  of  them 
breaking  stone  along  the  road,  and  occupied  at 
other  laborious  and  not  less  menial  labor,  there 
is  too  much  reason  to  fear  that  it  is  so. 

As  we  approached  Iglau,  we  heard  cannon 
filing;  the  crowd  increased,  and  following  the 


190  VIEWS  A- fOOT. 

road,  we  came  to  an  open  square,  where  a  large 
tiumber  were  already  assembled ;  shrines  were 
erected  around  it,  hung  with  pictures  and  pi  no 
boughs,  and  a  long  procession  of  children  was 
passing  down  the  side  as  we  entered.  We  went 
towards  the  middle,  where  Neptune  and  his  Tri- 
tons poured  the  water  from  their  urns  into  two 
fountains,  and  stopped  to  observe  the  some. 
The  procession  came  on,  headed  by  a  large  body 
of  priests,  in  white  robes,  with  banners  and 
crosses.  They  stopped  before  the  prim-ip?il 
shrine,  in  front  of  the  Rathhaus,  and  began  a 
solemn  religious  ceremony.  The  whole  crowd  of 
not  less  than  ten  thousand  persons,  stood  silent 
and  uncovered,  and  the  deep  voice  of  the  offi- 
ciating priest  was  heard  over  the  whole  square. 
At  times  the  multitude  sang  responses,  and  I 
could  mark  the  sound,  swelling  and  rolling  up 
like  a  mighty  wave,  till  it  broke  and  slowly  sank 
down  again  to  the  deepest  stillness.  The  effect 
was  marred  by  the  rough  voice  of  the  officers 
commanding  the  soldiery,  and  the  volleys  of 
musquetry  which  were  occasionally  discharged. 
It  degraded  the  solemnity  of  the  pageant  to  the 
level  of  a  military  parade. 

In  the  afternoon  we  were  overtaken  by  a  trav- 
elling handworker,  on  his  way  to  Vienna,  who 
joined  company  with  us.  We  walked  several 
miles  together,  talking  on  various  matters, 
without  his  having  the  least  suspicion  we  were 
not  Germans.  He  had  been  at  Trieste,  and  at 
length  began  speaking  of  the  great  beauty  of 
the  American  vessels  there.  "Yes,"  said  I,  "our 
vessels  are  admired  all  over  the  world."  He 
st.ired  at  me  without  comprehending; — "your 
vessels?"  "Our  country's,"  I  replied;  "we  are 
Americans!"  I  can  see  still  his  look  of  incred- 
ulous astonishment  and  hear  the  amazed  tone 
with  which  he  cried :  "You  Americans — it  is  im- 
possible!" We  convinced  him  nevertheless,  to 
his  great  joy,  for  all  through  Germany  there  is  a 


THE   WANDERING  JOURNRTMAN.       191 

curiosity  to  see  our  countrymen  and  a  kindly 
feeling  towards  them.  "I  shall  write  down 
in  my  book,"  said  he,  "so  that  I  shall  never  for- 
get it,  that  I  once  travelled  with  two  Ameri- 
cans!"'  \V<-  stopped  together  for  the  night  at 
the  only  inn  in  a  large,  beggarly  village,  where 
we  obtained  a  frugal  supper  with  difficulty,  for 
a  regiment  of  Polish  lancers  was  quartered  there 
for  the  night,  and  the  pretty  Kellnerin  was  so 
bus}-  in  waiting  on  the  officers  that  she  had  no 
eye  for  wandering  journeymen,  as  she  took  us  to 
be.  She  even  told  us  the  "beds  were  all  occupied 
and  we  must  sleep  on  the  floor.  Just  then  the 
landlord  came  by.  "Is  it  possible,  Herr  Land- 
lord," asked  our  new  companion,  "that  there  is 
no  bed  here  for  us?  Have  the  goodness  to  look 
again,  for  we  are  not  in  the  habit  of  sleeping  on 
the  floor  like  dogs !  "  This  speech  had  its  effect, 
for  the  Kellnerin  was  commanded  to  find  us 
beds.  She  came  back  unwillingly  after  a  time 
and  reported  that  two  only,  were  vacant  As  a 
German  bed  is  only  a  yard  wide,  we  pushed  these 
two  together,  but  they  were  still  too  small  for 
three  persons,  and  I  had  a  severe  cold  in  the 
morning,  from  sleeping  crouched  up  against  the 
damp  wall. 

The  next  day  we  passed  the  dividing  ridge 
which  separates  the  waters  of  the  Elbe  from  the 
Danube,  and  in  the  evening  arrived  at  Znaim, 
the  capital  of  Moravia.  It  is  built  on  a  steep 
hill  looking  down  on  the  valley  of  the  Thaya, 
whose  waters  mingle  with  the  Danube  near 
I'ressburg.  The  old  castle  on  the  height  near, 
was  formerly  the  residence  of  the  Moravian 
monarchs,  and  traces  of  the  ancient  walls  and 
battlements  of  the  city  are  still  to  be  seen.  The 
handwerker  took  us  to  the  inn  frequented  by  his 
craft — the  leather-curriers — and  we  conversed  to- 
get  her  till  bed-time.  While  telling  me  of  the  op- 
p  --ivelaws  of  Austria,  the  degrading  vassal- 
age of  the  peasants  and  the  horrors  of  the  ion- 


192  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

scription  system,  he  paused  as  in  deep  thought, 
arid  looking  at  me  with  a  suppressed  sigh,  said: 
"Is  it  not  true,  America  is  free?"  I  told  him  of 
our  country  and  her  institutions,  adding  that 
though  we  were  not  yet  as  ft'ee  as  we  hoped  and 
wished  to  be,  we  enjoyed  far  more  liberty  than 
any  country  in  the  world.  "Ah !"  said  he",  "  itis 
hard  to  leave  one's  fatherland  oppressed  as  it  is, 
but  I  wish  I  could  go  to  America!" 

We  left  next  morning  at  eight  o'clock,  after 
having  done  full  justice  to  the  beds  of  the 
"Golden  Stag,"  and  taken  leave  of  Florian 
Francke,  the  honest  and  hearty  old  landlord. 
Znaim  appears  to  great  advantage  from  the 
Vienna  road;  the  wind  which  blew  with  fury 
against  our  backs,  would  not  permit  us  to  look 
long  at  it,  but  pushed  us  on  towards  the  Aus- 
trian border.  In  the  course  of  three  hours  we 
were  obliged  to  stop  at  a  little  village ;  it  blew  a 
perfect  hurricane  and  the  rain  began  to  soak 
through  our  garments.  Here  we  stayed  three 
hours  among  the  wagoners  who  stopped  on  ac- 
count of  the  weather.  'One  miserable,  drunken 
wretch,  whom  one  would  not  wish  to  look  at 
more  than  once,  distinguished  himself  by  insult- 
ing those  around  him,  and  devouring  like  a 
beast,  large  quantities  of  food.  When  the  reck- 
oning was  given  him,  he  declared  he  had  al- 
ready paid,  and  the  waiter  denying  it,  he  said, 
"Stop,  I  wrill  show  you  something!"  pulled  out 
his  passport  and  pointed  to  the  name — "Baron 
von  Reitzen  stein."  It  availed  nothing ;  he  had 
fallen  so  low  that  his  title  inspired  no  respect, 
and  when  we  left  the  inn  they  were  still  endeav- 
oring to  get  their  money  and  threatening  him 
with  a  summary  proceeding  if  the  demand  was 
not  complied  with. 

Next  morning  the  sky  was  clear  and  a  glorious 
day  opened  before  us.  The  country  became 
more  beautiful  as  we  approached  the  Danube; 
the  hills  were  covered  with  vineyards,  just  in  the 


THE  ALPS  AND   THE  DANUBE.  193 

tender  green  of  their  first  leaves,  and  the  rich 
valleys  lay  in  Sabbath  stillness  in  the  warm  sun- 
shine. Sometimes  from  an  eminence  we  could 
see  far  and  wide  over  the  garden-like  slopes, 
where  little  white  villages  shone  among  the 
blossoming  fruit-trees.  A  chain  of  blue  hills 
rose  in  front,  which  I  knew  almost  instinctively 
stood  by  the  Danube;  when  we  climbed  to  the 
last  height  and  began  to  descend  to  the  valley, 
where  the  river  was  still  hidden  by  luxuriant 
groves,  I  saw  far  to  the  southwest,  a  range  of 
faint,  silvery  summits,  rising  through  the  dim 
ether  like  an  airy  vision.  There  was  no  mistak- 
ing those  snowy  mountains.  My  heart  bounded 
with  a  sudden  thrill  of  rapturous  excitement  at 
this  first  view  of  the  Alps!  They  were  at  a 
great  distance,  and  their  outline  was  almost 
blended  with  the  blue  drapery  of  air  which 
clothed  them.  I  gazed  till  my  vision  became 
dim  and  I  could  no  longer  trace  their  airy  lines. 
They  called  up  images  blended  with  the  grandest 
events  in  the  world's  history.  I  thought  of  the 
glorious  spirits  who  have  looked  upon  them  and 
trodden  their  rugged  sides — of  the  storms  in 
which  they  veil  their  countenances,  and  the 
avalanches  they  hurl  thundering  to  the  valleys 
— of  the  voices  of  great  deeds,  which  have 
echoed  from  their  crags  over  the  wide  earth — 
and  of  the  ages,  which  have  broken,  like  the 
waves  of  a  mighty  sea,  upon  their  everlasting 
summits! 

As  we  descended,  the  hills  and  forests  shut  out 
this  sublime  vision,  and  I  looked  to  the  wood- 
clothed  mountains  opposite  and  tried  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  current  that  rolled  at  their  feet. 
We  here  entered  upon  a  rich  plain,  about  ten 
miles  in  diameter,  which  lay  between  a  backward 
sweep  of  the  hills  and  a  curve  of  the  Danube.  It 
W.MS  covered  with  the  richest  grain ;  every  thing 
wore  the  luxuriance  of  summer,  and  we  seemed  to 
have  changed  seasons  since  leaving  the 


194  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

hills  of  Bohemia.  Continuing  over  the  plain,  wt 
had  on  our  left  the  fields  of  AVagni  in  ana  Easting, 
the  scene  of  two  of  Napoleon's  blood-bought  vic- 
tories. The  outposts  of  the  Carpathians  skirted 
the  horizon — that  great  mountain  range  which 
stretches  through  Hungary  to  the  borders  of 
Russia. 

At  length  the  road  came  to  the  river's  side,  and 
we  crossed  on  wooden  bridges  over  two  or  three 
arms  of  the  Danube,  all  of  which  together  were 
little  wider  than  the  Schuylkill  at  Philadelphia. 
When  we  crossed  the  last  bridge,  we  came  to  a 
kind  of  island  covered  with  groves  of  the  silver 
ash.  Crowds  of  people  filled  the  cool  walks; 
booths  of  refreshment  stood  by  the  roadside,  and 
music  was  everywhere  heard.  The  road  finally 
terminated  in  a  circle,  where  beautiful  alleys  ra- 
diated into  the  groves;  from  the  opposite  side  of 
a  broad  street  lined  with  stately  buildings  ex- 
tended into  the  heart  of  the  city,  and  through 
this  a,venue,  filled  with  crowds  of  carriages  and 
l>eople  on  their  way  to  those  delightful  walks,  we 
entered  Vienna ! 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

VIENNA. 

May  81. — I  have  at  last  seen  the  thousand 
wonders  of  this  great  capital — this  German  Paris 
— this  connecting  link  between  tho  civilization  of 
Europe  and  the  barbaric  magnificence  of  the  East. 
It  looks  familiar  to  be  in  a  city  again,  whose 
streets  are  thronged  with  people,  and  resound 
with  the  din  and  bustle  of  business.  It  reminds 
me  of  the  never-ending  crowds  of  London,  or  the 
Ufe  and  tumult  of  our  scarcely  less  active  New 


VIENNA.  195 

York.  Although  the  end  may  be  sordid  for 
which  so  many  are  laboring,  yet  the  very  sight 
of  so  much  activity  is  gratifying.  It  is  pecul- 
iarly so  to  an  American.  After  residing  in  a  for- 
eign land  for  some  time,  the  peculiarities  of  our 
nation  are  more  easily  noticed;  I  find  in  my 
countrymen  abroad  a  vein  of  restless  energy — a 
love  for  exciting  action — which  to  many  of  our 
good  German  friends  is  perfectly  incomprehensi- 
ble. It  might  have  been  this  which  gave  at  once 
a  favorable  impression  of  Vienna. 

The  morning  of  our  arrival  we  sallied  out 
from  our  lodgings  in  the  Leopoldstadt,  to  ex- 
plore the  world  before  us.  Entering  the  broad 
Praterstrasse,  we  passed  down  to  the  little  arm 
of  the  Danube,  which  separates  this  part  of  the 
new  city  from  the  old.  A  row  of  magnificent 
coffee-houses  occupy  the  bank,  and  numbers 
of  persons  were  taking  their  breakfasts  in  the 
shady  porticoes.  The  Ferdinand's  Bridge  which 
crosses  the  stream,  was  filled  with  people;  in  the 
motley  crowd  we  saw  the  dark-eyed  Greek,  and 
Turks  in  their  turbans  and  flowing  robes.  Little 
brown  Hungarian  boys  were  going  around,  sell- 
ing bunches  of  lilies,  and  Italians  with  baskets  of 
oranges  stood  by  the  side- walk.  The  throng  be- 
came greater  as  we  penetrated  into  the  old  city. 
The  streets  were  filled  with  carts  and  carriages, 
and  as  there  are  no  side-pavements,  it  required 
constant  attention  to  keep  out  of  their  way. 
Splendid  shops,  fitted  up  with  great  taste,  occu- 
pied the  whole  of  the  lower  stories,  and  goods  of 
all  kinds  hung  beneath  the  canvas  awnings  in 
front  of  them.  Almost  every  store  or  shop  was 
dedicated  to  some  particular  person  or  place, 
which  was  represented  on  a  large  panel  by  the 
door.  The  number  of  these  paintings  added 
much  to  the  splendor  of  the  scene;  I  was  grati- 
fied to  find,  among  the  images  of  kings  and 
dukes,  one  dedicated  "to  the  American"  with 
an  Indian  chief  in  full  costume. 
7 


19«  VIEWS  A-FOOf. 

The  Altstadt,  or  old  city,  which  contains 
about  sixty  thousand  inhabitants,  is  completely 
separated  from  the  suburbs,  whose  population, 
taking  the  whole  extent  within  the  outer  bar- 
rier, numbers  nearly  half  a  million.  It  is  .sit- 
uated on  a  small  arm  of  the  Danube,  and  encom- 
passed by  a  series  of  public  promenades,  gar- 
dens and  walks,  varying  from  a  quarter  to  half 
a  mile  in  length,  called  the  Glacis.  This  formerly 
belonged  to  the  fortifications  of  the  city,  but  as 
the  suburbs  grew  up  so  rapidly  on  all  sides,  it 
was  changed  appropriately  to  a  public  walk. 
The  city  is  still  surrounded  with  a  massive  wall 
and  a  deep  wide  rnoat;  but  since  it  was  taken 
by  Napoleon  in  1809,  the  moat  has  been 
changed  into  a  garden,  with  a  beautiful  carriage 
road  along  the  bottom,  around  the  whole  city. 
It  is  a  beautiful  sight,  to  stand  on  the  summit 
of  the  wall  and  look  over  the  broad  Glacis,  with 
its  shady  roads  branching  in  every  direction, 
and  filled  with  inexhaustible  streams  of  people. 
The  Vorstaedte,  or  new  cities,  stretch  in  a  circle 
around,  beyond  this;  all  the  finest  buildings 
front  on  the  Glacis,  among  which  the  splendid 
Vienna  Theatre  and  the  church  of  San  Carlo 
Borromeo  are  conspicuous.  The  mountains  of 
the  Vienna  Forest  bound  the  view,  with  here 
and  there  a  stately  castle  on  their  woody  sum- 
mits. I  was  reminded  of  London  as  seen  from 
Regent's  Park,  and  truly  this  part  of  Vienna  can 
well  compare  with  it.  On  penetrating  into  the 
suburbs,  the  resemblance  is  at  an  end.  Many  of 
the  public  thoroughfares  are  still  unpaved,  and 
in  dry  weather  one  is  almost  choked  by  the 
clouds  of  fine  dust.  A  furious  wind  blows  from 
the  mountains,  sweeping  the  streets  almost  con- 
stantly  and  filling  the  eyes  and  ears  with  it, 
making  the  city  an  unhealthy  residence  for 
strangers. 

There  is  no  lack  of  places  for  pleasure  or 
amusement.  Beside  the  numberless  walks  of  the 


ST.  STEPHEN'S  CATHEDRAL.  197 

Glacis,  there  are  the  Imperial  Gardens,  with 
their  cool  shades  and  flowers  and  fountains; 
the  Augarten,  laid  out  and  opened  to  the  public 
by  Emperor  Joseph :  and  the  Crater,  the  largest 
and  most  beautiful  of  all.  It  lies  on  an  island 
formed  by  the  arms  of  the  Danube,  and  is  be- 
tween two  and  three  miles  square.  From  the 
circle  at  the  end  of  the  Praterstrasse,  broad  car- 
riage-ways extend  through  its  forests  of  oak 
and  silver  ash,  and  over  its  verdant  lawns  to 
the  principal  stream,  which  bounds  it  on  the 
north.  These  roads  are  lined  with  stately  horse 
chestnuts,  whose  branches  unite  and  form  a 
dense  canopy ;  completely  shutting  out  the  sun. 
Every  afternoon  the  beauty  and  nobility  of 
Vienna  whirl  through  the  cool  groves  in  their 
gay  equipages,  while  the  sidewalks  are  thronged 
with  pedestrians,  and  the  numberless  tables  and 
seats  with  which  every  house  of  refreshment  is 
surrounded,  are  filled  with  merry  guests.  Here, 
on  Sundays  and  holidays,  the  people  repair  in 
thousands.  The  woods  are  full  of  tame  deer, 
which  run  perfectly  free  over  the  whole  Prater. 
I  saw  several  in  one  of  the  lawns,  lying  down  in 
the  grass,  with  a  number  of  children  playing 
around  or  sitting  beside  them.  It  is  delightful 
to  walk  there  in  the  cool  of  the  evening,  when 
the  paths  are  crowded,  and  everybody  is  enjoy- 
ing the  release  from  the  dusty  city.  It  is  this 
free,  social  life  which  renders  Vienna  so  attrac- 
tive to  foreigners  and  draws  yearly  thousands 
of  visitors  from  all  parts  of  Europe. 

St.  Stephen's  Cathedral,  in  the  centre  of  the 
old  city,  is  one  of  the  finest  specimens  of  Gothic 
architecture  in*  Germany.  Its  unrivalled  tower, 
which  rises  to  the  height  of  four  hundred  and 
twenty-eight  feet,  is  visible  from  every  part  of 
Vienna.  It  is  entirely  of  stone,  most  elaborately 
ornamented,  and  is  supposed  to  be  the  strongest 
in  Europe.  If  the  tower  was  finished,  it  might 
rival  any  church  in  Europe  in  richness  and  brill- 


198  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

iancy  of  appearance.  The  inside  is  solemn  and 
grand;  but  the  effect  is  injured  by  the  number 
of  small  chapels  and  shrines.  In  one  of  these 
rests  the  remains  of  Prince  Eugene  of  Savoy, 
"der  edle  Hitter,"  known  in  a  ballad  to  every 
man,  woman  and  child  in  Germany. 

The  Belvidere  Gallery  fills  thirty-five  halls, 
and  contains  three  thousand  pictures !  It  is  ab- 
solutely bewildering  to  walk  through  such  vast 
collections;  you  can  do  no  more  than  glance  at 
each  painting,  and  hurry  by  face  after  face,  and 
figure  after  figure,  on  which  you  would  willingly 
gaze  for  hours  and  inhale  the  atmosphere  of 
beauty  that  surrounds  them.  Then  after  you 
leave,  the  brain  is  filled  with  their  forms — ra- 
diant spirit-faces  look  upon  you,  and  you  see 
constantly,  in  fancy,  the  calm  brow  of  a  Ma- 
donna, the  sweet  young  face  of  a  child,  or  the 
blending  of  divine  with  mortal  beauty  in  an 
angel's  countenance.  I  endeavor,  if  possible, 
always  to  make  several  visits — to  study  those 
pictures  which  cling  tirst  to  the  memory,  and 
pass  over  those  which  make  little  or  no  impres- 
sion. It  is  better  to  have  a  few  images  fresh 
and  enduring,  than  a  confused  and  indistinct 
memory  of  many. 

From  the  number  of  Madonnas  in  every 
European  gallery,  it  would  almost  seem  that 
the  old  artists  painted  nothing  else.  The  subject 
is  one  which  requires  the  highest  genius  to  do 
it  justice,  and  it  is  therefore  unpleasant  to  see 
so  many  still,  inexpressive  faces  of  the  virgin 
and  child,  particularly  by  the  Dutch  artists, 
who  clothe  their  figures  sometimes  in  the  stiff 
costumes  of  their  own  time.  Raphael  and 
Murillo  appear  to  me  to  be  almost  the  only 
painters  who  have  expressed  what,  perhape,  was 
above  the  power  of  other  masters — the  com- 
bined love  and  reverence  of  the  mother,  and  the 
divine  expression  in  the  face  of  the  child,  pro- 
phetic of  his  mission  and  godlike  power. 


THE  BELVIDERE  GALLERT.  199 

There  were  many  glorious  old  paintings  in  the 
second  story,  which  is  entirely  taken  up  with 
pictures ;  two  or  three  of  the  halls  were  devoted 
to  selected  works  from  modern  artists.  Two  of 
these  I  would  give  everything  I  have  to  possess. 
One  of  them  is  a  winter  scene,  representing  the 
portico  of  an  old  Gothic  church.  At  the  base  oi 
one  of  the  pillars  a  woman  is  seated  in  the  snow, 
half-benumbed,  clasping  an  infant  to  her  breast, 
while  immediately  in  front  stands  a  boy  of  per- 
haps seven  or  eight  years,  his  little  hands  folded 
in  prayer,  while  the  chill  wind  tosses  the  long 
curls  from  his  forehead.  There  is  something  so 
pure  and  holy  in  the  expression  of  his  childish 
countenance,  so  much  feeling  in  the  lip  and  sor- 
rowful eye,  that  it  moves  one  almost  to  tears  to 
look  upon  it.  I  turned  back  half  a  dozen  times 
from  the  other  pictures  to  view  it  again,  and 
blessed  the  artist  in  my  heart  for  the  lesson  he 
gave.  The  other  is  by  a  young  Italian  painter, 
whose  name  I  have  forgotten,  but  who,  if  he 
never  painted  anything  else,  is  worthy  a  high 
place  among  the  artists  of  his  country.  It 
represents  some  scene  from  the  history  of 
Venice.  On  an  open  piazza,  a  noble  prisoner, 
wasted  and  pale  from  long  confinement,  has 
just  had  an  interview  with  his  children.  He 
reaches  his  arm  toward  them  as  if  for  the  last 
time,  while  a  savage  keeper  drags  him  away.  A 
lovely  little  girl  kneels  at  the  feet  of  the  Doge, 
but  there  is  no  compassion  in  his  stern  features, 
and  it  is  easy  to  see  that  her  father  is  doomed. 

The  Lower  Belvidere,  separated  from  the 
Upper  by  a  large  garden,  laid  out  in  the  style  of 
that  at  Versailles,  contains  the  celebrated 
Ambrnser  Summlnng,  a  collection  of  armor. 
In  the  first  hall  I  noticed  the  complete  armor  of 
the  Emperor  Maximilian,  for  man  and  horse— 
the  armor  of  Charles  V.,  and  Prince  Moritz  of 
Saxony,  while  the  walls  were  filled  with  figures 
Sf  Gerwau  nobles  and  knights,  in  the  suits  thejr 


200  VIEWS   A- FOOT. 

wore  in  life.  There  is  also  the  armor  of  the 
great  "Baver  of  Trient,"  trabant  of  the  Arch- 
duke Ferdinand.  He  was  nearly  nine  feet  in 
stature,  and  his  spear,  though  not  equal  to 
Satan's,  in  Paradise  Lost,  would  still  make  a 
tree  of  tolerable  dimensions. 

In  the  second  hall  we  saw  weapons  taken  from 
the  Turkish  army  who  besieged  Vienna,  with  the 
horse-tail  standards  of  the  Grand  Vizier,  Kara 
Mustapha.  The  most  interesting  article  was 
the  battle-axe  of  the  unfortunate  Montezuma, 
which  was  probably  given  to  the  Emperor 
Charles  Y.,  by  Cortez.  It  is  a  plain  instrument 
of  dark  colored  stone,  about  three  feet  long. 

"We  also  visited  the  Biirgerliche  Zeughaus,  a 
collection  of  arms  and  wreapons,  belonging  to 
the  citizens  of  Vienna.  It  contains  sixteen  thou- 
sand weapons  and  suits  of  armor,  including 
those  plundered  from  the  Turks,  when  John 
Sobieski  conquered  them  and  relieved  Vienna 
from  the  siege.  Besides  a  great  number  of 
sabres,  lances  and  horsetails,  there  is  the  blood- 
red  banner  of  the  Grand  Vizier,  as  well  as  his 
skull  and  shroud,  which  is  covered  with  sen- 
tences  from  the  Koran.  On  his  return  to  Bel- 
grade, after  the  defeat  at  Vienna,  the  Sultan 
sent  him  a  bow-string,  and  he  was  accordingly 
strangled.  The  Austrians  having  taken  Bel- 
grade some  time  after,  they  opened  his  grave 
and  carried  off  his  skull  and  shroud,  as  well  as 
the  bow-string,  as  relics.  Another  large  and 
richly  embroidered  banner,  which  hung  in  a 
broad  sheet  from  the  ceiling,  was  far  more  inter- 
esting to  me.  It  had  once  waved  from  the 
vessels  of  the  Knights  of  Malta,  and  had,  per- 
haps, on  the  prow  of  the  Grand  Master's  ship, 
led  that  romantic  band  to  battle  against  the 
Infidel. 

A  large  number  of  peasants  and  common  sol- 
diers were  admitted  to  view  the  armory  at  the 
same  time.  The  grave  custode  who  showed  us 


THE  IRON  STICK.  201 

the  curiosities,  explaining  every  thing,  in  phrases 
known  by  heart  for  years  and  making  the  same 
starts  of  admiration  whenever  he  came  to  any 
tiling  peculiarly  remarkable,  singled  us  out  as 
the  two  persons  most  worthy  of  attention. 
Accordingly  his  remarks  were  directed  entirely  to 
us,  and  his  humble  countrymen  might  as  well 
have  been  invisible,  for  the  notice  he  took  of 
them.  On  passing  out  we  gave  him  a  coin 
worth  about  fifteen  cents,  which  happened  to 
be  so  much  more  than  the  others  gave  him, 
that,  bowing  graciously,  he  invited  us  to  write 
our  names  in  the  album  for  strangers.  While  we 
were  doing  this,  a  poor  hand-werker  lingered 
behind,  apparently  for  the  same  object,  whom 
he  scornfully  dismissed,  shaking  the  fifteen  cent 
piece  in  his  hand,  and  saying:  "The  album  is 
not  for  such  as  you — it  is  for  noble  gentlemen ! " 

On  our  way  through  the  city,  we  often  noticed 
a  house  on  the  southern  side  of  St.  Stephen's 
Platz,  dedicated  to  "the  Iron  Stick."  In  a  niche 
by  the  window,  stood  what  appeared  to  be  the 
limb  of  a  tree,  completely  filled  with  nails,  which 
were  driven  in  so  thick  that  no  part  of  the 
original  wood  is  visible.  We  learned  afterward 
the  legend  concerning  it.  The  Vienna  forest  is 
said  to  have  extended,  several  hundred  years 
ago,  to  this  place.  A  locksmith's  apprentice  was 
enabled,  by  the  devil's  help,  to  make  the  iron 
bars  and  padlock  which  confine  the  limb  in  its 
place;  every  locksmith's  apprentice  who  came 
to  Vienna  after  that,  drove  a  nail  into  it,  till 
finally  there  was  room  for  no  more.  It  is  a 
singular  legend,  and  whoever  may  have  placed 
the  limb  there  originally,  there  it  has  remained 
for  two  or  three  hundred  years  at  least. 

We  spent  two  or  three  hours  delightfully  one 
evenmgin  listening  to  Strauss's  band.  We  went 
about  sunset  to  the  Odeon,  a  new  building  in  the 
Leopoldstadt.  It  has  a  refreshment  hallnearly 
five  hundred  feet  long,  with  a  handsome  fresco 


902  VIEWS  A -FOOT. 

ceiling  and  glass  doors  opening  into  a  g&rden 
walk  of  the  same  length.  Both  the  haft  and 
.garden  were  filled  with  tables,  where  the  people 
seated  themselves  as  they  came,  and  conversed 
sociably  over  their  coffee  and  wine.  The  orches- 
tra was  placed  in  a  little  ornamental  temple  in 
the  garden,  in  front  of  which  I  stationed  myself, 
for  I  was  anxious  to  see  the  world's  waltz  king, 
whose  magic  tones  can  set  the  heels  of  half 
Christendom  in  motion.  After  the  band  had 
finished  tuning  their  instruments,  a  middle-sized, 
handsome  man  stepped  forward  with  long 
strides,  with  a  violin  in  one  hand  and  bow  in  the 
other,  and  began  waving  the  latter  up  and  down 
like  a  magician  summoning  his  spirits.  As  if  he 
had  waved  the  sound  out  of  his  bow,  the  tones 
leaped  forth  from  the  instruments,  and  guided 
by  his  eye  and  hand,  fell  into  a  merry  measure. 
The  accuracy  with  which  every  instrument  per- 
formed its  part  was  truly  marvelous.  He  could 
not  have  struck  the  measure  or  the  harmony 
more  certainly  from  the  keys  of  his  own  piano, 
than  from  that  large  band.  The  sounds  strug- 
gled forth,  so  perfect  and  distinct,  that  one 
almost  expected  to  see  them  embodied,  whirling 
in  wild  dance  around  him.  Sometimes  the  air 
was  so  exquisitely  light  and  bounding,  the  feet 
could  scarcely  keep  on  the  earth ;  then  it  sank 
into  a  mournful  lament,  with  a  sobbing  tremu- 
lousness,  and  died  away  in  a  long-breathed  sigh. 
Strauss  seemed  to  feel  the  music  in  every  limb. 
He  would  w;ave  his  fiddle-bow  awhile,  then  com- 
mence  playing  with  desperate  energy,  moving 
his  body  to  the  measure,  till  the  sweat  rolled 
from  his  brow.  A  book  was  lying  on  the  stand 
before  him,  but  he  made  no  use  of  it.  He 
often  glanced  around  with  a  kind  of  half-tri- 
umphant smile  at  the  restless  crowd,  whose 
feet  could  scarcely  be  restrained  from  bound- 
ing to  the  magic  measure.  It  was  the  horn  of 
Oberoii  realized.  The  composition  of  the  music 


THE  TOMS  Of  BEETHOVEN.  203 

displayed  great  talent,  but  its  charm  consisted 
more  in  the  exquisite  combination  of  the  differ- 
ent instruments,  and  the  perfect,  the  wonderful 
exactness  with  which  each  performed  its  part — a 
piece  of  art  of  the  most  elaborate  and  refined 
character. 

The  company,  which  consisted  of  several  hun- 
dred, appeared  to  be  full  of  enjoyment.  They 
sat  under  the  trees  in  the  calm,  cool  twilight, 
with  the  stars  twinkling  above,  and  talked  and 
laughed  sociably  together  between  the  pauses  of 
the  music,  or  strolled  up  and  down  the  lighted 
alleys.  We  walked  up  and  down  with  them,  and 
thought  how  much  we  should  enjoy  such  a  scene 
at  home,  where  the  faces  around  us  would  be 
those  of  friends,  and  the  language  our  mother 
tongue! 

We  went  a  long  way  through  the  suburbs  one 
bright  afternoon,  to  a  little  cemetery  about  a 
mile  from  the  city,  to  find  the  grave  of  Bee- 
thoven. On  ringing  at  the  gate  a  girl  admitted 
us  into  the  grounds,  in  which  are  many  monu- 
ments of  noble  families  who  have  vaults  there. 
I  passed  up  the  narrow  walk,  reading  theinscrip- 
tions,  till  I  came  to  the  tomb  of  Franz  Clement, 
a  young  composer,  who  died  two  or  three  years 
ago.  On  turning  again,  my  eye  fell  instantly  on 
the  word  "BEETHOVEN,"  in  golden  letters,  on  a 
tombstone  of  gray  marble.  A  simple  gilded  lyre 
decorated  the  pedestal,  above  which  was  a  ser- 
pent encircling  a  butterfly — the  emblem  of  resur- 
rection to  eternal  life.  Here  then,  mouldered  the 
remains  of  that  restless  spirit,  who  seemed  to 
have  strayed  to  earth  from  another  clime,  from 
Buch  a  height  did  he  draw  his  glorious  concep- 
tions. The  perfection  he  sought  for  here  in  vain, 
he  has  now  attained  in  a  world  where  the  soul  is 
freed  from  the  bars  which  bind  it  in  this.  There 
were  no  flowers  planted  around  the  tomb  by 
those  who  revered  his  genius ;  only  one  wreath, 
withered  and  dead,  lay  among  the  grass,  as  if 


204  ri£w?  A-FOOT: 


left  long  ago  by  some  solitary  pilgrim,  and  a 
few  Avildbuttercups  hung'  with  their  bright  blos- 
soms over  the  slab.  It  might  have  been  wrong, 
but  I  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  st.  ,il 
one  or  two,  while  the  old  grave-digger  was  busy 
preparing  a  new  tenement.  I  thought  that  other 
ouds  would  open  in  a  few  days,  but  those  I  took 
would  be  treasured  many  a  year  as  sacred  relics. 
A  few  paces  off  is  the  grave  of  Schubart,  the  com- 
poser, whose  beautiful  songs  are  heard  all  over 
Germany. 

It  would  employ  one  a  week  to  visit  all  the 
rich  collections  of  art  in  Vienna.  They  ar<>  all 
open  to  the  public  on  certain  days  of  the  week, 
and  we  have  been  kept  constantly  in  motion, 
running  from  one  part  of  the  city  to  another,  in 
order  to  arrive  at  some  gallery  at  the  appointed 
time.  Tickets,  which  have  to  be  procured  often 
in  quite  different  parts  of  the  city,  are  necessary 
for  admittance  to  many;  on  applying  after  much 
trouble  and  search,  we  frequently  found  we  came 
at  the  wrong  hour,  and  must  leave  without 
effecting  our  object.  We  employed  no  guide,  but 
preferred  finding  every  thing  ourselves.  We 
made  a  list  every  morning,  of  the  collections 
open  during  the  day,  and  employed  the  rest  of 
the  time  in  visiting  the  churches  and  public  gar- 
dens, or  rambling  through  the  suburbs. 

We  visited  the  Imperial  Library  a  day  or  two 
ago.  The  hall  is  245  feet  long,  with  a  magnifi- 
cent dome  in  the  centre,  under  which  stands  the 
statue  of  Charles  V.,  of  Carrara  marble,  sur- 
rounded by  twelve  other  monarchs  of  the  house 
of  Hapsburg.  The  walls  a  re  of  variegated  in  a  r- 
ble,  richly  ornamented  with  gold,  and  the  ceiling 
and  dome  are  covered  with  brilliant  fresco  paint- 
ings. The  library  numbers  300,000  volumes, 
and  16,000  manuscripts,  which  are  kept  in  wal- 
nut cases,  gilded  and  adorned  Avith  medallions. 
The  rich  and  harmonious  effect  of  theAvhole  can- 
not easily  be  imagined.  It  is  exceedingly  appro- 


CABINET  OF  NATURAL  HTSTOKT.       205 

priate  that  a  hall  of  such  splendor,  should  be 
used  to  hold  a  library.  The  pomp  of  a  palace 
may  seem  hollow  and  vain,  for  it  is  but  the 
dwelling1  of  a  man;  but  no  building  can  be  too 
magnificent  for  the  hundreds  of  great  and 
immortal  spirits  to  dwell  in,  who  have  visited 
earth  during  thirty  centuries. 

Among  other  curiosities  preserved  in  the  col- 
lect ion,  we  were  shown  a  brass  plate,  containing 
one  of  the  records  of  the  Roman  Senate,  made 
180  years  before  Christ,  Greek  manuscripts  of 
the  fifth  and  sixth  centuries,  and  a  volume  oi 
Psalms,  printed  on  parchment,  in  the  year  1457, 
by  Faust  and  Schaeffer,  the  inventors  of  print- 
ing. There  were  also  Mexican  manuscripts,  pre- 
sented by  Cortez ;  the  prayer-book  of  Hildegard, 
wife  of  Charlemagne,  in  letters  of  gold ;  the  sig- 
nature of  San  ^arlo  Borromeo,  and  a  Greek  tes-. 
tamentof  the  Thirteenth  century,  which  had  been 
used  by  Erasmus  in  making  his  translation  and 
contains  notes  in  his  own  hand.  The  most 
interesting  article  was  the  "Jerusalem  Deliv- 
ered "  of  Tasso,  in  the  poet's  own  hand,  with  hia 
erasions  and  corrections. 

We  a  ls<  >  visited  the  Cabinet  of  Natural  History, 
which  is  op. -MI  twice  a  week  "to  all  respectably 
drew!  persons,"  as  the  notice  at  the  door  says. 
But  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  attempt  to 
describe  what  we  saw  there.  The  Mineral  Cabi- 
net had  a  greater  interest  to  me,  inasmuch  as  it 
called  up  the  recollections  of  many  a  school-boy 
ramble  over  the  hills  and  into  all  kinds  of  quar- 
ries, far  and  near.  It  is  said  to  be  the  most  per- 
fect collection  in  existence.  I  was  pleased  to  find 
many  old  acquaintances  there,  from  the  mines 
of  Pennsylvania;  Massachusetts  and  New  York 
were  also  very  well  represented.  I  had  no  idea 
before,  that  the  mineral  wealth  of  Austria  was 
so  great.  Besides  the  iron  and  lead  mines 
among  the  hills  of  Styria  and  the  quicksilver  of 
Idria,  there  is  no  small  amount  of  gold  and  sil- 


e06  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

ver  found,  and  the  Carpathian  mountains  ar« 
rich  in  jasper,  opal  and  lapiz  lazuli.  The  largest 
opal  ever  Found,  was  in  this  collection.  It  weighs 
thirty-four  ounces  «and  looks  like  a  condensed 
rainbow. 

In  passing  the  palace,  we  saw  several  persons 
entering  the  basement  story  under  the  Library, 
and  had  the  curiosity  to  follow  them.  By  so 
doing,  we  saw  the  splendid  equipages  of  the 
house  of  Austria.  There  must  have  been  near  a 
hundred  carriages  and  sleds,  of  every  shape  and 
style,  from  the  heavy,  square  vehicle  of  the  last 
century  to  the  most  light  and  elegant  convey- 
ance of  the  present  day.  One  clumsy,  but  mag- 
nificent machine,  of  crimson  and  gold,  was 
pointed  out  as  being  a  hundred  and  fifty  years 
old.  The  misery  we  witnessed  in  starving  Bo- 
hemia, formed  a  striking  contrast  to  all  this 
splendor. 

Beside  the  imperal  Picture  Gallery,  there  are 
several  belonging  to  princes  and  noblemen  in 
Vienna,  which  are  scarcely  less  valuable.  The 
most  important  of  these  is  that  of  Prince  Liech- 
tenstein, wrhich  we  visited  yesterday.  We  ap- 
plied to  the  porter's  lodge  for  admittance  to  the 
gallery,  but  he  refused  to  open  it  for  two  per- 
sons; as  we  did  not  wish  a  long  walk  for  noth- 
ing, we  concluded  to  wait  for  other  visitors. 
Presently  a  gentleman  and  lady  came  and  in- 
quired if  the  gallery  was  open.  We  told  him 
it  would  probably  be  opened  now,  although  the 
porter  required  a  large  number,  and  he  went  to 
ask.  After  a  short  time  he  returned,  saying: 
"  He  will  come  immediately;  I  thought  best  to 
put  the  number  a  little  higher,  and  so  I  told  him 
there  were  six  of  us!"  Having  little  artistic 
knowledge  of  paintings.  I  judge  of  them  accord- 
ing to  the  effect  they  produce  upon  me — in  pro- 
portion as  they  gratify  the  innate  love  for  the 
beautiful  and  the  true.  I  have  been  therefore 
disappointed  in  some  painters  whose  names  are 


PICTURES  AND  MUSIC.  20T 

widely  known,  and  surprised  again  to  find  works 
of  great  beauty  by  others  of  smaller  fame. 
Judging  by  such  a  standard,  I  should  say  that 
"Cupid  sleeping  in  the  lap  of  Venus,"  by  Cor- 
reggio,  is  the  glory  of  this  collection.  The  beau- 
timl  limbs  of  the  boy-god  droop  in  the  repose  of 
slumber,  as  his  head  rests  on  his  mother's  knee, 
and  there  is  a  smile  lingering  around  his  half- 
parted  lips,  as  if  he  was  dreaming  new  triumphs. 
The  face  is  not  that  of  the  wicked,  mischief-lov- 
ing child,  but  rather  a  sweet  cherub,  bringing  a 
blessing  to  all  he  visits.  The  figure  of  the  god- 
dess is  exquisite.  Her  countenance,  unearthly 
in  its  loveliness,  expresses  the  tenderness  of  a 
young  mother,  as  she  sits  with  one  finger 
pressed  on  her  rosy  lip,  watching  his  slumber. 
It  is  a  picture  which  "stings  the  brain  with 
beauty." 

The^  chapel  of  St.  Augustine  contains  one  of 
the  best  works  of  Canpva— the  monument  of 
the  Grand  Duchess,  Maria  Christina,  of  Sachsen- 
Teschen.  It  is  a  pyramid  of  gray  marble,  twen- 
ty-eight feet  high,  with  an  opening  in  the  side, 
representing  the  entrance  to  a  sephulchre.  A  fe- 
male figure  personating  Virtue  bears  in  an  urn 
to  the  grave,  the  ashes  of  the  departed,  at- 
tended by  two  children  with  torches.  The  fig- 
ure of  Compassion  follows,  leading  an  aged  beg- 
g;ir  to  the  tomb  of  his  benefactor,  and  a  little 
child  with  its  hands  folded.  On  the  lower  step 
rests  a  mourning  Genius  beside  a  sleeping  lion, 
and  a  bas-relief  on  the  pyramid  above  represents 
an  angel  carrying  Christina's  image,  surrounded 
\\itli  the  emblem  of  eternity,  to  Heaven.  A 
spirit  of  deep  sorrow,  which  is  touchingly  por- 
t rayed  in  the  countenance  of  the  old  man,  per- 
vades the  whole  group.  While  we  looked  at  it, 
the  organ  breathed  out  a  slow,  mournful  strain, 
\vhich  harmonized  so  fully  with  the  expression 
of  the  figures,  that  we  seemed  to  be  listening  to 
the  requiem  of  the  one  they  mourned.  The  com 


208  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

bined  effect  of  music  and  sculpture,  thus  united 
in  their  deep  pathos,  was  such,  that  I  could 
have  sat  down  and  wept.  It  was  not  from  sad- 
ness at  the  death  of  a  benevolent  though  un- 
known individual, — but  the  feeling  of  grief,  of 
perfect,  unmingled  sorrow,  so  powerfully  repre- 
sented, came  to  the  heart  like  an  echo  of  its  own 
emotion,  and  carried  it  away  with  irresistible  in- 
fluence. Travellers  have  described  the  same 
feeling  while  listening  to  the  Miserere  in  the  Sis- 
tine  Chapel,  at  Rome.  Cauova  could  not  have 
chiseled  the  monument  without  tears. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  objects  in  Vienna, 
is  the  Imperial  Armory.  We  were  admitted 
through  tickets  previously  procured  from  the 
Armory  Direction;  as  there  was  already  one 
large  company  within,  we  were  told  to  wait  in 
the  court  till  our  turn  came.  Around  the  wall 
on  the  inside,  is  suspended  the  enormous  chain 
which  the  Turks  stretched  across  the  Danube  at 
Buda,  in  the  year  1529,  to  obstruct  the  naviga- 
tion. It  has  eight  thousand  links  and  is  nearly 
a  mile  in  length.  The  court  is  filled  with  can- 
non of  all  shapes  and  sizes,  many  of  which  were 
conquered  from  other  nations.  I  saw  a  great 
many  which  were  cast  during  the  French  Revo- 
lution, with  the  words  "Liberte  !  Egalite  !  "  upon 
them,  and  a  number  of  others  bearing  the  sim- 
ple letter  "  N." 

Finally  the  first  company  came  down  and  the 
forty  or  fifty  persons  who  had  collected  'during 
the  interval,  were  admitted.  The  armory  runs 
around  a  hollow  square,  and  must  be  at  least  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  in  length.  We  were  all  taken 
into  a  circular  hall,  made  entirely  of  weapons, 
to  represent  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe. 
Here  the  crusty  old  guide  who  admitted  us, 
rapped  with  his  stick  on  the  shield  of  an  old 
knight  who  stood  near,  to  keep  silence,  and  then 
addressed  us :  "  When  I  speak  every  one  must  be 
silent.  No  one  can  write  or  draw  anything.  No 


THE  IMPERIAL  ARMORY.  20S 

on  shall  t^uch  anything,  or  go  to  look  at  any- 
thinj  is  b<'f  1. 1  have  done  speaking.  Other- 
wise,  u'ley  chall  bv  taken  immediately  into  the 
street  again.''  Thus  in  every  hall  he  rapped 
and  scolded,  driving  the  women  to  one  side  with 
his  stick  and  ;he  men  to  the  other,  till  we  were 
nearly  through,  when  the  thought  of  the  coming 
fee  made  hir1  a  little  more  polite.  He  had  a  reg- 
ular set  jf  dcscripti  ns  by  heart,  which  he  went 
through  with  a  great  flourish,  pointing  particu- 
lai-ly  to  thj  common  military  caps  of  the  late 
Emperors  of  Prussia  and  Austria,  as  "treasures 
beyond  all  price  to  the  nation!"  Whereupon, 
the  crowd  of  common  people  gazed  reverently 
on  the  shabby  beavers,  and  I  verily  believe, 
would  have  devoutly  kissed  them,  had  the  glass 
covering  been  removed.  I  happened  to  be  next 
to  a  tall,  digniTicd  young  man,  who  looked  on 
all  this  with  ;„  displeasure  almost  amounting  to 
contempt.  Seeing  I  was  a  foreigner,  he  spoke, 
in  a  low  :  n  j,  bitterly  of  the  Austrian  govern- 
ment. ''You  are  not  then  an  Austrian?"  I 
asked.  "  Y.^,  thank  God !"  was  the  r^  jly :  " but 
I  havo  seen  enough  of  Austrian  tyranny.  I  am 
a  Polo.' 

Th,  first  wing  contains  banners  used  in  the 
French  Revolution,  and  liberty  trees  with  the 
red  cap;  the  armor  of  Rudolph  of  Hapsburg, 
Maximilian  I.,  the  Emperor  Charles  V.,  and  the 
hat,  sword  and  order  of  Marshal  Schwarzenberg. 
S  me  of  the  hails  represent  a  fortiucation,  with 
walls,  ditches  and  embankments,  made  of  mus- 
kets and  swords.  A  long  room  in  the  secc  nd 
wing  contains  an  encampment,  in  which  twJve 
or  fifteen  large  tents  are  formed  in  like  manner. 
Along  the  sides  are  grouped  old  Austrian  ban- 
ners, standards  taken  from  the  French,  and 
horse-tails  and  flags  caj  tured  from  the  Turks. 
"They  make  a  gfrcr.t  boast,"  said  the  Pole,  "of 
ft  half  dozen  French  colors,  but  let  them  go  to 
the  Hospital  des  Inva.  des,  in  Paris,  and  they 


210  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

will  find  hundreds  of  the  best  banners  of  Aus- 
tria!" They  also  exhibit  the  armor  of  a  dwarf 
king  of  Bohemia  and  Hungary,  who  died,  a 
gray-headed  old  man,  in  his  twentieth  year ;  the 
sword  of  Marlborough;  the  coat  of  Gustavus 
Adolphus,  pierced  in  the  breast  and  back  with  the 
bullet  which  killed  him  at  Liitzen ;  the  armor  of 
the  old  Bohemian  princess  Libussa,  and  that  of 
the  amazon  Wlaska,  with  a  steel  visor  made  to 
fit  the  features  of  her  face.  The  last  wing  was 
the  most  remarkable.  Here  we  saw  the  helm 
and  breastplate  of  Attila,  king  of  the  Huns, 
which  once  glanced  at  the  heads  of  his  myriads 
of  wild  hordes,  before  the  walls  of  Rome;  the 
armor  of  Count  Stahremberg,  who  commanded 
Vienna  during  the  Turkish  siege  in  1529,  and 
the  holy  banner  of  Mahomet,  taken  at  that  time 
from  the  Grand  Vizier,  together  with  the  steel 
harness  of  John  Sobieski  of  Poland,  who  rescued 
Vienna  from  the  Turkish  troops  under  Kara 
Mustapha;  the  hat,  sword  and  breastplate  of 
Godfrey  of  Bouillon,  the  Crusader-king  of  Jeru- 
salem, with  the  banners  of  the  cross  the  Crusad- 
ers had  borne  to  Palestine,  and  the  standard 
they  captured  from  the  Turks  on  the  walls  of 
the  Holy  City !  I  felt  all  my  boyish  enthusiasm 
for  the  romantic  age  of  the  Crusaders  revive,  as 
I  looked  on  the  torn  and  mouldering  banners 
which  once  waved  on  the  hills  of  Judea,  or  per- 
haps followed  the  sword  of  the  Lion  Heart 
through  the  fight  on  the  field  of  Ascalon !  What 
tales  could  they  not  tell,  those  old  standards, 
cut  and  shivered  by  spear  and  lance!  What 
brave  hands  have  carried  them  through  the 
storm  of  battle,  what  dying  eyes  have  looked 
upwards  to  the  cross  on  their  folds,  as  the  last 
prayer  was  breathed  for  the  rescue  of  the  Holy 
Sepulchre! 

I  must  now  close  the  catalogue.  This  morn- 
Ing  we  shall  look  upon  Vienna  for  the  last  time. 
Our  knapsacks  are  repacked,  and  the  passports 


SCENE  AT  THE  PASSPORT  OFFICE.    211 

(precious  documents ! )  vised  for  Munich.  The  get- 
ting of  this  vise,  however,  caused  a  comical  scene 
at  the  Police  Office,  yesterday.  We  entered  the  In- 
spector's Hall  and  took  our  stand  quietly 
among  the  crowd  of  persons  who  were  gathered 
around  a  railing  which  separated  them  from  the 
main  office.  One  of  the  clerks  came  up,  scowling 
at  us,  and  asked  in  a  rough  tone,  "  What  do 
you  want  here?"  We  handed  him  our  tickets  of 
sojourn  (for  when  a  traveller  spends  more  than 
twenty-four  hours  in  a  German  city,  he  must 
take  out  a  permission  and  pay  for  it)  with  the  re- 
request  that  he  would  give  us  our  passports.  He 
glanced  over  the  tickets,  came  back  and  with 
constrained  politeness  asked  us  to  step  within 
the  railing.  Here  we  were  introduced  to  the 

Chief  Inspector.    "Desire  Herr  — to  come 

here,"  said  he  to  a  servant;  then  turning  to  us, 
"I  am  happy  to  see  the  gentlemen  in  Vienna." 
An  officer  immediately  came  up,  who  addressed 
us  in  fluent  English.  "You  may  speak  in  your 
native  tongue,"  said  the  Inspector; — "excuse 
our  neglect;  from  the  facility  with  which  you 
speak  German,  we  supposed  you  were  natives  of 
Austria!"  Our  passports  were  signed  at  once 
and  given  us  with  a  gracious  bow,  accompanied 
by  the  hope  that  we  would  visit  Vienna  again 
before  long.  All  this,  of  comse,  was  perfectly 
unintelligible  to  the  wondering  crowd  outside 
the  railing.  Seeing,  however,  the  honors  we  were 
receiving,  they  crowded  back  and  respectfully 
made  room  for  us  to  pass  out.  I  kept  a  grave 
face  till  we  reached  the  bottom  of  the  stairs, 
when  I  gave  way  to  restrained  laughter  in  a 
manner  that  shocked  the  dignity  of  the  guard, 
who  looked  savagely  at  me  over  his  forest  of 
mustache.  I  would  nevertheless  have  felt  grate- 
ful for  the  attention  we  received  as  Americans, 
were  it  not  for  our  uncourteous  reception  as  sus- 
pected Austria  us. 
We  have  just  been  exercising  the  risible  mu& 


212  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

cles  again,  though  from  a  very  different  cause, 
and  one  which,  according  to  common  custom, 
ought  to  draw  forth  symptoms  of  a  lachrymose 
nature.  This  morning  B suggested  an  ex- 
amination of  our  funds,  for  we  had  neglected 
keeping  a  strict  account,  and  what  with  being 
cheated  in  Bohemia  and  tempted  by  the  amuse- 
ments of  Vienna,  there  was  an  apparent  dwin- 
dling  away.  So  we  emptied  our  pockets  and 
purses,  counted  up  the  contents,  and  found  we 
uad  just  ten  florins,  or  four  dollars  apiece.  The 
thought  of  our  situation,  away  in  the  heart  of 
Austria,  five  hundred  miles  from  our  Frankfort 
home,  seems  irresistibly  laughable.  But  allow- 
ing twenty  days  for  the  journey,  we  shall  have 
half  a  florin  a  day  to  travel  on.  This  is  a  homoe- 
opathic allowance,  indeed,  but  we  have  con- 
cluded to  try  it.  So  now  adieu,  Vienna!  In  two 
hours  we  shall  be  among  the  hills  again. 


CHAPTER  XXIH. 

UP  THE  DANUBE. 

We  passed  out  of  Vienna  in  the  face  of  one  of 
the  strongest  winds  it  was  ever  my  lot  to  en- 
counter. It  swept  across  the  plain  with  such 
force  that  it  was  almost  impossible  to  advance 
till  we  got  under  the  lee  of  a  range  of  hills. 
About  two  miles  from  the  barrier  we  passed 
Schoenbrunn,  the  Austrian  Versailles.  It  was 
built  by  the  Empress  Maria  Theresa,  and  was  the 
residence  of  Napoleon  in  1809,  when  Vienna  waa 
in  the  hands  of  the  French.  Later,  in  1832,  the 
Duke  of  Reichstadt  died  in  the  same  room 
which  his  father  once  occupied.  Behind  the  pal- 


THE  DANUBE.  213 

ace  is  a  magnificent  garden,  at  the  foot  of  a  hill 
covered  with  rich  forests  and  crowned  with  an 
open  pillared  hall,  300  feet  long,  called  the 
Gloriette.  The  colossal  eagle  which  surmounts 
it,  can  be  seen  a  great  distance. 

The  lovely  valley  in  which  Schoenbrunn  lies, 
follows  the  course  of  the  little  river  Vienna  into 
the  heart  of  that  mountain  region  lying  between 
the  Styrian  Alps  and  the  Danube,  and  called 
the  Vienna  Forest.  Into  this  our  road  led, 
between  hills  covered  with  wood,  with  here  and 
there  a  lovely  green  meadow,  where  herds  of 
cattle  were  grazing.  The  third  day  we  came  to 
the  Danube  again  at  Melk,  a  little  city  built 
under  the  edge  of  a  steep  hill,  on  whose  summit 
stands  the  palace-like  abbey  of  the  Benedictine 
Monks.  The  old  friars  must  have  had  a  merry 
life  of  it,  for  the  wine-cellar  of  the  abbey  furnished 
the  French  army  50,000  measures  for  several 
days  in  succession.  The  shores  of  the  Danube 
here  are  extremely  beautiful.  The  valley  where 
it  spreads  out,  is  filled  with  groves,  but  where 
the  hills  approach  the  stream,  its  banks  are 
rocky  and  precipitous,  like  the  Rhine.  Although 
not  so  picturesque  as  the  latter  river,  the  seen- 
ery  on  the  Danube  is  on  a  grander  scale.  On  the 
south  side  the  mountains  bend  down  to  it  with 
a  majestic  sweep,  and  there  must  be  delightful 
glances  into  the  valleys  that  lie  between,  in  pass- 
ing down  the  current. 

But  we  soon  left  the  river,  and  journeyed  on 
through  the  enchanting  inland  vales.  To  give 
an  idea  of  the  glorious  enjoyment  of  travelling 
through  such  scenes,  let  me  copy  a  leaf  out  of 
my  journal,  written  as  we  rested  at  noon  on  the 
top  of  a  lofty  hill: — "Here,  while  the  delightful 
mountain  breeze  that  comes  fresh  from  the  Alps 
cools  my  forehead,  and  the  pines  around  are 
sighing  their  eternal  anthem,  I  seize  a  few  mo- 
ments to  tell  what  a  paradise  is  around  me.  I 
have  felt  an  elevation  of  mind  and  spirit,  a  per- 


214  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

feet  rapture  from  morning  till  night,  since  we 
left  Vienna.  It  is  the  brightest  and  balmiest 
June  weather;  an  ever  fresh  breeze  sings  through 
the  trees  and  waves  the  ripening  grain  on  the 
verdant  meadows  and  hill-slopes.  The  air  is 
filled  with  bird-music.  The  lark  sings  above  us 
out  of  sight,  the  bull- finch  wakes  his  notes  in  the 
grove,  and  at  eve  the  nightingale  pours  forth 
her  thrilling  strain.  The  meadows  are  literally 
covered  with  flowers — beautiful  purple  salvias, 
pinks  such  as  we  have  at  home  in  our  gardens 
and  glowing  buttercups,  color  the  banks  of 
every  stream.  I  never  saw  richer  or  more  lux- 
uriant foliage.  Magnificent  forests  clothe  the 
hills,  and  the  villages  are  embedded  in  fruit  trees, 
shrubbery  and  flowers.  Sometimes  we  go  for 
miles  through  some  enchanting  valley,  lying  like 
a  paradise  between  the  mountains,  while  the 
distant,  white  Alps  look  on  it  from  afar ;  some- 
times over  swelling  ranges  of  hills,  where  we  can 
see  to  the  right  the  valley  of  the  Danube, 
threaded  by  his  silver  current  and  dotted  with 
white  cottages  and  glittering  spires,  and  farther 
beyond,  the  blue  mountains  of  the  Bohemian 
Forest.  To  the  left,  the  range  of  the  Styrian 
Alps  stretches  along  the  sky,  summit  above  sum- 
mit, the  farther  ones  robed  in  perpetual  snow. 
I  could  never  tire  gazing  on  those  glorious  hills. 
They  fill  the  soul  with  a  conception  of  sublimity, 
such  as  one  feels  when  listening  to  triumphal 
music.  They  seem  like  the  marble  domes  of  a 
mighty  range  of  temples,  where  earth  worships 
her  Maker  with  an  organ-anthem  of  storms! 

"  There  is  luxury  in  travelling  here.  We  walk 
all  day  through  such  scenes,  resting  often  in  the 
shade  of  the  fruit  trees  which  line  the  road,  or  on 
a  mossy  bank  by  the  side  of  some  cool  forest. 
Sometimes  for  enjoyment  as  well  as  variety,  we 
make  our  dining-place  by  a  clear  spring  instead 
of  within  a  smoky  tavern ;  and  our  simple  meals 
have  a  relish  an  epicure  could  never  attain. 


BOHEMIAN  GIPSIES.  216 

Away  with  your  railroads  and  steamboats  and 
mail-coaches,  or  keep  them  for  those  who  have 
no  eye  but  for  the  sordid  interests  of  life !  With 
my  knapsack  and  pilgrim-staff,  I  ask  not  their 
aid.  If  a  mind  and  soul  full  of  rapture  with 
beauty,  a  frame  in  glowing  and  vigorous  health, 
and  slumbers  unbroken  even  by  dreams,  are 
blessings  any  one  would  attain,  let  him  pedes- 
trianize  it  through  Lower  Austria!" 

I  have  never  been  so  strongly  and  constantly 
reminded  of .  America,  as  during  this  journey. 
Perhaps  the  balmy  season,  the  same  in  which  I 
last  looked  upon  the  dear  scenes  at  home,  may 
have  its  effect ;  but  there  is  besides  a  richness  in 
the  forests  and  waving  fields  of  grain,  a  wild 
luxuriance  over  every  landscape,  which  I  have 
seen  nowhere  else  in  Europe.  The  large  farm- 
houses, buried  in  orchards,  scattered  over  the 
valleys,  add  to  the  effect.  Everything  seems  to 
speak  of  happiness  and  prosperity. 

AVe  were  met  one  morning  by  a  band  of 
wandering  Bohemian  gipsies — the  first  of  the 
kind  I  ever  saw.  A  young  woman,  with  a  small 
child  in  her  arms  came  directly  up  to  me,  and 
looking  full  in  my  face  with  her  wild  black  eyes, 
said,  without  any  preface:  "Yes,  he  too  has 
met  with  sorrow  and  trouble  already,  and  will 
still  have  more.  But  he  is  not  false — he  is  true 
and  sincere,  and  will  also  meet  with  good  luck!" 
She  said  she  could  tell  me  three  numbers  with 
which  I  should  buv  a  lottery  ticket  and  win  a 
great  prize.  I  told  her  I  would  have  nothing  to 
do  with  the  lottery,  and  would  buy  no  ticket, 
but  she  persisted,  saying:  "Has  he  a  twenty 
kreutzer  piece? — will  he  give  it?  Lay  it  in  his 
hand  and  make  a  cross  over  it,  and  I  will  reveal 
the  numbers!"  On  my  refusal,  she  became 
angry,  and  left  me,  saying:  "Let  him  take  care 
— the  third  day  something  will  happen  to  him!" 
An  old,  svrinkled  hag  made  the  same  proposi- 
tion to  my  companion  with  no  better  success. 


216  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

They  reminded  me  strikingly  of  our  Indians; 
their  complexion  is  a  dark  brown,  and  their 
eyes  and  hair  are  black  as  night.  These 
belonged  to  a  small  tribe  who  wander  through 
the  forests  of  Bohemia,  and  support  themselves 
by  cheating  and  stealing. 

We  stopped  the  fourth  night  at  Enns,  a  small 
city  on  the  river  of  the  same  name,  which 
divides  Upper  from  Lower  Austria.  After  leaving 
the  beautiful  little  village  where  we  passed  the 
night  before,  the  road  ascended  one  of  those 
long  ranges  of  hills,  which  stretch  off'  from  the 
Danube  towards  the  Alps.  We  walked  for  miles 
over  the  broad  and  uneven  summit,  enjoying 
the  enchanting  view  which  opened  on  both  sides. 
If  we  looked  to  the  right  we  could  trace  the 
windings  of  the  Danube  for  twenty  miles,  his 
current  filled  with  green,  wooded  islands ;  white 
cities  lie  at  the  foot  of  the  hills,  which,  covered 
to  the  summit  with  grain-fields  and  vine-yards, 
extended  back  one  behind  another,  till  the 
farthest  were  lost  in  the  distance.  I  was  glad 
we  had  taken  the  way  from  Vienna  to  Linz  by 
land,  for  from  the  heights  we  had  a  view  of  the 
whole  course  of  the  Danube,  enjoying  besides, 
the  beauty  of  the  inland  vales  and  the  far-off 
Styrian  Alps.  From  the  hills  we  passed  over  we 
could  see  the  snowy  range  as  far  as  the  Alps 
of  Salsburg— some  of  them  seemed  robed  to 
the  very  base  in  their  white  mantles.  In  the 
morning  the  glaciers  on  their  summit  glittered 
like  stars ;  it  was  the  first  time  I  saw  the  sun  re- 
flected at  a  hundred  miles'  distance ! 

On  descending  we  came  into  a  garden-like 
plain,  over  which  rose  the  towers  of  Enns,  built 
by  the  ransom  money  paid  to  Austria  for  the 
deliverance  of  the  Lion-hearted  Richard.  The 
country  legends  say  that  St.  Florian  was 
thrown  into  the  river  by  the  Romans  in  the 
third  century,  with  a  millstone  around  his  neck, 
Which,  however,  held  him  above  the  water  like 


LINZ.  217 

a  cork,  until  he  had  finished  preaching  them  a 
sermon.  In  the  villages  we  often  saw  his  image 
painted  on  the  houses,  in  the  act  of  pouring  a 
pail  of  water  on  a  burning  building,  with  the  in- 
scription beneath — "Oh,  holy  Florian,  pray  for 
us !"  This  was  supposed  to  be  a  charm  against 
fire.  In  Upper  Austria,  it  is  customary  to  erect 
a  shrine  on  the  road,  \vherever  an  accident  has 
happened,  with  a  painting  and  description  of  it, 
and  an  admonition  to  all  passers-by  to  pray  for 
the  soul  of  the  unfortunate  person.  On  one  of 
them,  for  instance,  was  a  cart  with  a  wild  ox, 
which  a  man  was  holding  by  the  horns;  a 
woman  kneeling  by  the  wheels  appeared  to  be 
drawing  a  little  girl  by  the  feet  from  under  it, 
and  the  inscription  stated:  "By  calling  on 
Jesus,  Mary  and  Joseph,  the  girl  was  happily 
rescued."  Many  of  the  shrines  had  images 
which  the  people  no  doubt,  in  their  ignorance 
and  simplicity,  considered  holy,  bwt  they  were 
to  us  impious  and  almost  blasphemous. 

From  Enns  a  morning's  wralk  brought  us  to 
Linz.  The  peasant  girls  in  their  broad  straw 
hats  were  weeding  the  young  wheat,  looking  as 
cheerful  and  contented  as  the  larks  that  sung 
above  them.  A  mile  or  two  from  Linz  we  passed 
one  or  two  of  the  round  towers  belonging  to  the 
new  fortifications  of  the  city.  As  walls  have 
grown  out  of  fashion,  Duke  Maximilian  substi- 
tuted an  invention  of  his  own.  The  city  is  sur- 
rounded by  thirty-two  towTers,  one  to  three 
miles  distant  from  it,  and  so  placed  that  they 
form  a  complete  line  of  communication  and 
<M<--iir<\  They  are  sunk  in  the  earth,  surrounded 
with  a  ditch  and  embankments,  and  each  is  cap- 
able of  containing  ten  cannon  and  three  hundred 
men.  The  pointed  roofs  of  these  towers  are  seen 
on  all  the  hills  around'.  We  were  obliged- to  give 
up  our  passports  at  the  barrier,  the  officer  tell- 
ing  us  to  call  for  them  in  three  hours  at  the  City 
Police  Office ;  we  spent  the  intervening  time  very 


218  VIEWS   A-FUOT. 

agreeably  in  rambling  through  this  gay,  cheer- 
ful-looking  town.  With  its  gilded  spites  mid 
ornamented  houses,  with  their  green  lattice- 
blinds,  it  reminds  one  strongly  of  Italy,  or  at 
least  of  what  Italy  is  said  to  be.  It  nafi  now 
quite  am  active  and  business-like  aspect,  occa- 
sioned by  the  steamboat  and  railroad  lines  which 
connect  it  with  Vienna,  Prague,  Ilatisbon  and 
Salzburg.  Although  we  had  not  exceeded  our 
daily  allowance  by  more  than  a  few  kreutzers, 
we  found  that  twenty  days  would  be  hardly  suf- 
ficient to  accomplish  the  journey,  and  our  funds 
must  therefore  be  replenished.  Accordingly  I 
wrote  from  Linz  to  Frankfort,  directing  a  small 
sum  to  be  forwarded  to  Munich,  which  city  we 
hoped  to  reach  in  eight  days. 

We  took  the  horse  cars  at  Linz  for  Lambach, 
seventeen  miles  on  the  way  towards  Gmunden. 
The  mountains  were  covered  with  clouds  as  we 
approached  them,  and  the  storms  they  had  been 
brewing  for  two  or  three  days  began  to  march 
down  on  the  plain.  They  had  nearly  reached  us, 
when  we  crossed  the  Traun  and  arrived  at  Lam- 
bach,  a  small  city  built  upon  a  hill.  We  left  the 
next  day  at  noon,  and  on  ascending  the  hill 
after  crossing  the  Traun,  had  an  opportunity 
of  seeing  the  portrait  on  the  Traun  stein,  of 
which  the  old  landlord  told  us.  I  saw  it  at  the 
first  glance — certainly  it  is  a  most  remarkable 
freak  of  nature.  The  rough  back  of  the  mount- 
ain forms  the  exact  profile  of  the  human  coun- 
tenance, as  if  regularly  hewn  out  of  the  rock. 
What  is  still  more  singular,  it  is  said  to  be  a  cor- 
rect portrait  of  the  unfortunate  Louis  XVI. 
The  landlord  said  it  was  immediately  recognized 
by  all  Frenchmen.  The  road  followed  the  course 
of  the  Traun,  whose  green  waters  roared  at  the 
bottom  -of  the  glen  below  us ;  we  walked  for  sev- 
eral miles  through  a  fine  forest,  through  whose 
openings  we  caught  glimpses  of  the  mountains 
we  longed  to  reach. 


THE  UNKNOWN  STUDENT.  219 

The  river  roared  at  last  somewhat  louder,  and 
on  looking  down  the  bank,  I  saw  rocks  and 
rapids,  and  a  few  houses  built  on  the  edge  of  the 
stream.  Thinking  it  must  be  near  the  fall,  we 
went  down  the  path,  and  lo !  on  crossing  a  little 
wooden  bridge,  the  whole  affair  burst  in  sight ! 
Judge  of  our  surprise  at  finding  a  fall  of  fifteen 
feet,  after  we  had  been  led  to  expect  a  tremen- 
dous leap  of  forty  or  fifty,  with  all  the  accompa- 
niment of  rocks  and  precipices.  Of  course  the 
whole  descent  of  the  river  at  the  place  was  much 
greater,  and  there  were  some  romantic  cascades 
over  the  rocks  which  blocked  its  course.  Its 
greatest  beauty  consisted  in  the  color  of  the 
water — the  brilliant  green  of  the  waves  being 
broken  into  foam  of  the  most  dazzling  white — 
and  the  great  force  with  which  it  is  thrown  be- 
low. 

The  Traunstein  grew  higher  as  we  approached, 
presenting  the  same  profile  till  we  had  nearly 
reached  Gmunden.  From  the  green  upland 
meadows  above  the  town,  the  view  of  the  mount- 
ain range  was  glorious,  and  I  could  easily  con- 
ceive the  effect  of  the  Unknown  Student's  appeal 
to  the  people  to  fight  for  those  free  hills.  I  think 
it  is  Howitt  who  relates  the  incident — one  of  the 
most  romantic  in  German  history.  Count  Pap- 
penheim  led  his  forces  here  in  the  year  1626,  to 
suppress  a  revolution  of  the  people  of  the  whole 
Salzburg  region,  who  had  risen  against  an  in- 
vasion of  their  rights  by  the  Austrian  govern- 
ment. The  battle  which  took  place  on  these 
meadows  was  about  being  decided  in  favor  of 
the  oppressors,  wrhen  a  young  man,  clad  as  a 
student,  suddenly  appeared  and  addressed  the 
people,  pointing  to  the  Alps  above  them  and  the 
sweet  lake  below,  and  asking  if  that  land  should 
not  be  free.  The  effect  was  electrical;  they  re- 
turned to  the  charge  and  drove  back  the  troops 
of  Pappenheim,  who  were  about  taking  to  flight, 
when  the  unknown  leader  fell,  mortally  wounded. 


220  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 


This  struck   a   sudden  panic  through  nis  fol- 

'lowers,  and  the  Austrians  turning  again,  gained 

;  a  complete  victory.    But  the  name  of  the  brave 

student  is  unknown,  his   deed  unsung  by  his 

country's  bards,  and  almost  forgotten. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


THE  UNKNOWN  STUDENT. 

Ha!  spears  on  Gmunden's  meadows  green, 

And  banners  on  the  wood-crowned  heightl 
Rank  after  rank,  their  helmets'  sheen 

Sends  back  the  morning  light! 
Where  late  the  mountain  maiden  sang, 
The  battle-trumpet's  brazen  clang 

Vibrates  along  the  air; 
And  wild  dragoons  wheel  o'er  the  plain, 
Trampling  to  earth  the  yellow  grain, 
From  which  no  more  the  merry  swain 

His  harvest  sheaves  shall  bear. 

The  eagle,  in  his  sweep  at  morn, 

To  meet  the  monarch-sun  on  high, 
Heard  the  unwonted  warrior's  horn 

Peal  faintly  up  the  sky! 
He  saw  the  foemen,  moving  slow 
In  serried  legions,  far  below, 

Against  that  peasant  band, 
Who  dared  to  break  the  tyrant's  thrall 
And  by  the  sword  of  Austria  fall, 
Or  keep  the  ancient  Right  of  all. 

Held  by  their  mountain-land! 

They  came  to  meet  that  mail-clad  host 

From  glen  and  wood  and  ripening  field; 
A  brave,  stout  arm,  each  man  could  boast— 

A  soul,  unused  to  yield! 
They  met:  a  shout,  prolonged  and  loud, 
Went  hovering  upward  with  the  cloud 

That  closed  around  them  dun; 
Blade  upon  blade  unceasing  clashed, 
Spears  in  the  onset  shivering  crashed, 
And  the  red  glare  of  cannon  flashed 

Athwart  the  smoky  sun! 


THR  UNKNOWN  STUDENT,  22) 

The  mountain  warriors  wavered  back, 

Borne  down  by  myriads  of  the  foe, 
Like  pines  before  the  torrent's  track 

When  spring   has  warmed  the  snow. 
Shall  Faith  and  Freedom  vainly  call, 
And  Gmunden's    warrior-herdsmen  fall 

On  the  red  field  in  vain? 
No!  from  the  throng  that  back  retired, 
A  student  boy  sprang  forth  inspired, 
And  while  his  words  their  bosoms  fired, 

Led  on  the  charge  again: 

"And  thus  your  free  arms  would  ye  give, 

So  tamely  to  a  tyrant's  band, 
And  with  the  hearts  of  vassals  live 

In  this,  your  chainless  land? 
The  emerald  lake  is  spread  below, 
And  tower  above  the  hills  of  snow, 

Here,  field  and  forest  lie; 
This  land,  so  glorious  and  so  free — 
Say,  shall  it  crushed  and  trodden  be? 
Say,  would  ye  rather  bend  the  knee 

Than  for  its  freedom  die? 

"Look!  yonder  stand  in  mid-day's  glare 

The  everlasting  Alps  of  snow, 
And  from  their  peaks  a  purer  air 

Breathes  o'er  the  vales  below! 
The  Traunstein's  brow  is  bent  in  pride—- 
He brooks  no  craven  on  his  side — 

Would  ye  be  fettered  then? 
There  lifts  the  Sonnenstein  his  head, 
There  chafes  the  Traun  his  rocky  bed 
And  Aurach's  lovely  vale  is  spread—* 

Look  on  them  and  be  men! 

"  Let,  like  a  trumpet's  sound  of  fire, 

These  stir  your  souls  to  manhood's  part— 
The  glory  of  the  Alps  inspire 

Each  yet  unconquered  heart! 
For,  through  their  unpolluted  air 
Soars  fresher  up  the  grateful  prayer 

From  freemen,  unto  God; — 
A  blessing  on  those  mountains  old! 
On  to  the  combat,  brethren  bold! 
Strike,  that  ye  free  the  valleys  hold, 

Where  free  vour  fathers  trod!" 

And  like  a  mighty  storm  thax  tears 
The  icy  avalanche  from  its  bed, 

They  rushed  against  th'  opposing  spears—- 
The student  at  their  head! 


222  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

The  bands  of  Austria  fought  in  vain; 
A  bloodier  harvest  heaped  the  plain 

At  every  charge  they  made; 
Each  herdsman  was  a  hero  then— 
The  mountain  hunters  stood  like  men, 
And  echoed  from  the  farthest  glen 

The  clash  of  blade  on  blade! 

The  banner  in  the  student's  hand 

Waved  triumph  from  the  fight  before ; 
What  terror  seized  the  conq'ring  band?— 

It  fell,  to  rise  no  more! 
And  with  it  died  the  lofty  flame, 
That  from  his  lips  in  lightning  came 

And  burned  upon  their  own; 
Dread  Pappenheim  led  back  the  foe, 
The  mountain  peasants  yielded  slow, 
And  plain  above  and  lake  below 

Were  red  when  evening  shone. 

Now  many  a  year  has  passed  away 

Since  battle's  blast  rolled  o'er  the  plain 
The  Alps  are  bright  in  morning's  ray — 

The  Traunstein  smiles  again. 
But  underneath  the  flowery  sod, 
By  happy  peasant  children  trod, 

A  heroe's  ashes  lay. 
O'er  him  no  grateful  nation  wept, 
Fame,  of  his  deed  no  record  kept, 
And  dull  Forgetfulness  hath  swept 

His  very  name  away. 

In  many  a  grave,  by  poet  sung, 
There  falls  to  dust  a  lofty  brow, 

But  he  alone,  the  brave  and  young, 
Sleeps  there  forgotten  now. 

The  Alps  upon  that  field  look  down, 
Which  won  his  bright  and  brief  renown, 

Beside  the  lake's  green  shore; 
Still  wears  the  .and  a  tyrant's  chain — 
Still  bondmen  tread  the  battle-plain, 
Called  by  his  glorious  soul  in  vain 

To  win  their  rights  of  yore. 


GMUNDEN,  223 


CHAPTER  XXY. 

THE  AUSTRIAN  ALPS. 

It  was  nearly  dark  when  we  came  to  the  end 
of  the  plain  and  looked  on  the  city  at  our  feet 
and  the  lovely  lake  that  lost  itself  in  the  mount- 
ains before  us.  We  were  early  on  board  the 
steamboat  next  morning,  with  a  cloudless  sky 
above  us  and  a  snow-crested  Alp  beckoning  on 
from  the  end  of  the  lake.  The  water  was  of  the 
most  beautiful  green  hue,  the  morning  light  col- 
ored the  peaks  around  with  purple,  and  a  misty 
veil  rolled  up  the  rocks  of  the  Traunstein.  We 
stood  on  the  prow  and  enjoyed  to  the  fullest  ex- 
tent the  enchanting  scenery.  The  white  houses 
of  Gmunden  sank  down  to  the  water's  edge  like 
a  flock  of  ducks ;  half-way  we  passed  castle  Ort, 
on  a  rock  in  the  lake,  whose  summit  is  covered 
with  trees. 

As  we  neared  the  other  extremity,  the  mounts 
ains  became  steeper  and  loftier;  there  was  no 
path  along  their  wild  sides,  nor  even  a  fisher's 
hut  nestled  at  their  feet,  and  the  snow  filled  the 
ravines  more  than  half-way  from  the  summit. 
An  hour  and  a  quarter  brought  us  to  Ebensee, 
at  the  head  of  the  lake,  where  we  landed  and 
plodded  on  towards  Ischl,  following  the  Traun 
up  a  narrow  valley,  whose  mountain-walls  shut 
out  more  than  half  the  sky.  They  are  covered 
with  forests,  and  the  country  is  inhabited  en- 
tirely by  the  woodmen  who 'fell  the  mountain 
pines  and  float  the  timber  rafts  down  to  the 
Danube.  The  steeps  are  marked  with  white 
lines,  where  the  trees  have  been  rolled,  or  rather 
thrown  from  the  summit.  Often  they  descend 


224  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

several  miles  over  rocks  and  precipices,  where 
the  least  deviation  from  the  track  would  dash 
them  in  a  thousand  pieces.  This  generally 
takes  place  in  the  winter  when  the  sides  are  cov- 
ered with  snow  and  ice.  It  must  be  a  dangerous 
business,  for  there  are  many  crosses  by  the  way- 
side where  the  pictures  represent  persons  acci- 
dentally killed  by  the  trees ;  an  additional  paint- 
ing represents  them  as  burning  in  the  flames  of 
purgatory,  and  the  pious  traveller  is  requested 
to  pray  an  Ave  or  a  Paternoster  for  the  repose 
of  their  souls. 

On  we  went,  up  the  valley  of  the  Traun,  be- 
tween mountains  five  and  six  thousand  feet 
high,  through  scenes  constantly  changing  and 
constantly  grand,  for  three  or  four  hours.  Fi- 
nally the  hills  opened,  disclosing  a  little  trian- 
gular valley ,  whose  base  was  formed  by  a  mighty 
mountain  covered  with  clouds.  Through  the 
two  side-angles  came  the  Trauii  and  his  tribu- 
tary the  Ischl,  while  the  little  town  of  Ischl  lay 
in  the  centre.  Within  a  few  years  this  has  be- 
come a  very  fashionable  bathing-place,  and  the 
influx  of  rich  visitors,  which  in  the  summer 
sometimes  amounts  to  two  thousand,  has  en- 
tirely destroyed  the  primitive  simplicity  the  in- 
habitants originally  possessed.  From  Ischl  we 
took  a  road  through  the  forests  to  St.  AVolf- 
gang,  on  the  lake  of  the  same  name.  The  last 
part  of  the  way  led  along  the  banks  of  the  lake, 
disclosing  some  delicious  views.  These  Alpine 
lakes  surpass  any  scenery  I  have  yet  seen.  The 
water  is  of  the  most  beautiful  green,  like  a  sheet 
of  molten  beryl,  and  the  cloud-piercing  mount- 
ains that  encompass  them  shut  out  the  sun  for 
nearly  half  the  day.  St.  Wolfgang  is  a  lovely 
village  in  a  cool  and  quiet  nook  at  the  foot  of 
Schaf  berg.  The  houses  are  built  in  the  pictur- 
esque Swiss  style,  with  flat,  projecting  roofs  and 
ornamented  balconies,  and  the  people  are  the 
very  picture  of  neatness  and  cheerfulness. 


ASCENT  OF  SCHAFBERG.  225 

We  started  next  morning  to  ascend  the  Schaf- 
berg,  which  is  called  the  Righi  of  the  Austrian 
Switzerland.  It  is  somewhat  higher  than  its 
Swiss  namesake,  and  commands  a  prospect 
scarcely  less  extensive  or  grand.  We  followed 
a  foot-path  through  the  thick  forest  by  the  side 
of  a  roaring  torrent.  The  morning  mist  still 
covered  the  lake,  but  the  white  summits  of  the 
Salzburg  and  Noric  Alps  opposite  us,  rose  above 
it  and  stood  pure  and  bright  in  the  upper  air. 
We  passed  a  little  mill  and  one  or  two  cottages, 
and  then  wound  round  one  of  the  lesser  heights 
into  a  deep  ravine,  down  in  whose  dark  shadow 
we  sometimes  heard  the  axe  and  saw  of  the 
mountain  woodmen.  Finally  the  path  disap- 
peared altogether  under  a  mass  of  logs  and 
rocks,  which  appeared  to  have  been  wrhirled  to- 
gether by  a  sudden  flood.  We  deliberated  what 
to  do;  the  summit  rose  several  thousand  feet 
above  us,  almost  precipitously  steep,  but  we  did 
not  like  to  turn  back,  and  there  was  still  a  hope 
of  meeting  with  the  path  again.  Clambering 
over  the  ruins  and  rubbish  we  pulled  ourselves 
by  the  limbs  of  trees  up  a  steep  ascent  and  de- 
scended again  to  the  stream.  We  here  saw  the 
ravine  was  closed  by  a  wall  of  rock  and  our 
only  chance  was  to  cross  to  the  west  side  of  the 
mountain,  where  the  ascent  seemed  somewhat 
easier.  A  couple  of  mountain  maidens  whom 
we  fortunately  met,  carrying  home  grass  for 
their  goats,  told  us  the  mountain  could  be  as- 
cended on  that  side,  by  one  who  could  climb  well 
—laying  a  strong  emphasis  on  the  word.  The 
very  doubt  implied  in  this  expression  was 
enough  to  decide  us;  so  we  began  the  work. 
And  work  it  was,  too !  The  side  was  very  steep, 
the  trees  all  leaned  downwards,  and  we  slipped 
at  every  step  on  the  dry  leaves  and  grass.  After 
making  a  short  distance  this  way  with  the  great- 
est labor,  we  came  to  the  track  of  an  avalanche, 
which  had  swept  away  the  trees  and  earth. 


226  VIEWS   A- FOOT. 

Here  the  rock  had  been  worn  rough  by  torrents, 
but  by  using  both  hands  and  feet,  we  clomb  di- 
rectly up  the  side  of  the  mountain,  sometimes 
dragging  ourselves  up  by  the  branches  of  trees 
where  the  rocks  were  smooth.  After  half  an 
hour  of  such  work  we  came  above  the  forests, 
on  the  bare  side  of  the  mountain.  The  summit 
was  far  above  us  and  so  steep  that  our  limbs 
involuntarily  shrunk  from  the  task  of  climbing. 
The  side  ran  up  at  an  angle  of  nearly  sixty  de- 
grees, and  the  least  slip  threw  us  flat  on  our 
races.  .  We  had  to  use  both  hand  and  foot,  and 
were  obliged  to  rest  every  few  minutes  to  re- 
cover breath.  Crimson-flowered  moss  and  bright 
blue  gentians  covered  the  rock,  and  I  filled  my 
books  with  blossoms  for  friends  at  home. 

Up  and  up,  for  what  seemed  an  age,  we  clamb- 
ered. So  steep  was  it,  that  the  least  rocky  pro- 
jection hid  my  friend  from  sight,  as  he  was  com- 
ing up  below  me.  I  let  stones  roll  sometimes, 
which  went  down,  down,  almost  like  a  cannon- 
ball,  till  I  could  see  them  no  more.  At  length 
we  reached  the  region  of  dwarf  pines,  which  was 
even  more  difficult  to  pass  through.  Although 
the  mountain  was  not  so  steep,  this  forest,  cen- 
turies old,  reached  no  higher  than  our  breasts, 
and  the  trees  leaned  downwards,  so  that  we 
were  obliged  to  take  hold  of  the  tops  of  those 
above  us,  and  drag  ourselves  up  through  the 
others.  Here  and  there  lay  large  patches  of 
snow;  we  sat  down  in  the  glowing  June  sun, 
and  bathed  our  hands  and  faces  in  it.  Finally 
the  sky  became  bluer  and  broader,  the  clouds 
seemed  nearer,  and  a  few  more  steps  through 
the  bushes  brought  us  to  the  summit  of  the 
mountain,  on  the  edge  of  a  precipice  a  thousand 
feet  deep,  whose  bottom  stood  in  a  vast  field  of 
snow! 

We  lay  down  on  the  heather  exhausted  by  five 
hours'  incessant  toil,  and  drank  in  like  a  refresh- 
ing draught,  the  sublimity  of  the  scene.  The 


THE   VALLBT  OF  ST.  GILGEN.      .      227 

green  lakes  of  the  Salzburg  Alps  lay  far  below  us, 
and  the  whole  southern  horizon  was  filled  with 
the  mighty  range  of  the  Styrian  and  Noric  Alps, 
their  summits  of  never-melted  snow  mingling 
and  blending  with  the  clouds.  On  the  other  side 
the  mountains  of  Salzburg  lifted  their  ridgy  backs 
from  the  plains  of  Bavaria  and  the  Chiem  lake 
lay  spread  out  in  the  blue  distance.  A  line  of 
mist  far  to  the  north  betrayed  the  path  of  the 
Danube,  and  beyond  it  we  could  barely  trace  the 
outline  of  the  Bohemian  mountains.  With  a 
glass  the  spires  of  Munich,  one  hundred  and 
twenty  miles  distant,  can  be  seen.  It  was  a  view 
whose  grandeur  I  can  never  forget.  In  that 
dome  ofthe  cloud  we  seemed  to  breathe  a  purer 
air  than  that  of  earth. 

After  an  hour  or  two  we  began  to  think  of 
descending,  as  the  path  was  yet  to  be  found. 
The  summit,  which  was  a  mile  or  more  in  length, 
extended  farther  westward,  and  by  climbing 
over  the  dwarf  pines  for  some  time,  we  saw  a 
little  wooden  house  above  us.  It  stood  near  the 
highest  part  of  the  peak,  and  two  or  three  men 
were  engaged  in  repairing  it,  as  a  shelter  for 
travellers.  They  pointed  out  the  path  which 
went  down  on  the  side  toward  St.  Gilgen,  and 
we  began  descending.  The  mountain  on  this 
side  is  much  less  steep,  but  the  descent  is 
fatiguing  enough.  The  path  led  along  the  side 
of  a  glen  where  mountain  goats  were  grazing, 
and  further  down  we  saw  cattle  feeding  on  the 
little  spots  of  verdure  which  lay  in  the  forest. 
My  knees  became  so  weak  from  this  continued 
descent,  that  they  would  scarcely  support  me; 
but  we  were  three  hours,  partly  walking  ;md 
partly  running  down,  before  wre  reached  the 
bottom.  Half  an  hour's  walk  around  the  head 
of  the  St.  Wolfgang  See,  brought  us  to  the  little 
village  ot  St.  Gilgen. 

The  valley  of  St.  Gilgen  lies  like  a  little  para- 
dise between  the  mountains,  Lovely  green 
8 


228  VIEWS   A- FOOT. 

fields  and  woods  slope  gradually  from  tho  mount- 
ain behind,  to  the  still  greener  lake  spiv; u I  out 
before  it,  in  whose  bosom  the  white  Alps  me 
mirrored.  Its  picturesque  cottages  cluster 
around  the  neat  church  with  its  lofty  spire,  mid 
the  simple  inhabitants  have  countenances  ;IH 
bright  and  cheerful  as  the  blue  sky  above  them. 
We  breathed  an  air  of  poetry.  The  Arcadian 
simplicity  of  the  people,  the  pastoral  beauty  of 
the  iields  around,  and  the  grandeur  of  the  mount- 
ains which  shut  it  out  from  the  world,  realized 
my  ideas  of  a  dwelling-place,  where,  with  a  few 
kindred  spirits,  the  bliss  of  Eden  might  almost 
be  restored. 

We  stopped  there  two  or  three  hours  to  relieve 
our  hunger  and  fatigue.  My  boots  had  suffered 
severely  in  our  mount  a  in  ad  venture,  and  I  called 
at  a  shoemaker's  cottage  to  get  them  repaired. 
I  sat  down  and  talked  for  half  an  hour  with  the 
family.  The  man  and  his  wife  spoke  of  the  de- 
lightful scenery  around  them,  and  expressed 
themselves  with  correctness  and  even  elegance. 
They  were  much  pleased  that  I  admired  their 
village  so  greatly,  and  related  everything-  which 
they  supposed  could  interest  me.  As  I  rose  to 
go  my  head  nearly  touched  the  ceiling,  which 
was  very  low.  The  man  exclaimed :  "Ach  Gott ! 
how  tall! "  I  told  him  the  people  were  all  tall  in 
our  country;  he  then  asked  where  I  came  from, 
and  I  had  no  sooner  said  America,  than  he  threw 
up  his  hands  and  uttered  an  ejaculation  of  the 
greatest  surprise.  His  wife  observed  that  "it 
was  wonderful  how  far  man  was  permitted  to 
travel."  They  wished  me  a  prosperous  journey 
and  a  safe  return  home. 

St.  Gilgen  was  also  interesting  to  me  from  that 
beautiful  chapter  in  "Hyperion" — "Footsteps 
of  Angels" — and  on  passing  the  church  on  my 
way  back  to  the  inn,  I  entered  the  grave-yard 
mentioned  in  it.  The  green  turf  grows  thickly 
over  the  rows  of  mounds,  with  here  and  there  a 


THE   VALLET  OF  SALZBURG.  228 

rose  planted  by  the  hand  of  affection,  and  the 
white  crosses  were  hung  with  wreaths,  some 
of  which  had  been  freshly  laid  on.  Behind 
the  church  under  the  shade  of  a  tree,  stood  a 
small  chapel. — I  opened  the  unfastened  door,  and 
entered.  The  afternoon  bun  shone  through  the 
side  window,  and  all  was  still  around.  A  little 
shrine,  adorned  with  flowers,  stood  at  the  other 
end,  and  there  were  two  tablets  on  the  wall,  to 
persons  who  slumbered  beneath.  I  approached 
these  and  read  on  one  of  them  with  feelings 
not  easily  described:  "Look  not  mournfully 
into  the  past — it  comes  not  again ;  wisely  im- 
prove the  present — it  is  time;  and  go  forward 
to  meet  the  shadowy  future,  without  fear,  and 
with  a  manly  heart!"  This  then  was  the  spot 
where  Paul  Flemming  came  in  loneliness  and 
sorrow  to  muse  over  what  he  had  lost,  and  these 
were  the  words  whose  truth  and  eloquence 
strengthened  and  consoled  him,  "as  if  the  un- 
known tenant  of  the  grave  had  opened  his 
lips  of  dust  and  spoken  those  words  of  con- 
solation his  soul  needed."  I  sat  down  and 
mused  a  longtime,  for  there  was  something  in 
the  silent  holiness  of  the  spot,  that  impressed 
me  more  than  I  could  well  describe. 

We  reached  a  little  village  on  the  Fuschel  See, 
the  same  evening,  and  set  off  the  next  morning 
for  Salzburg.  The  day  was  hot  and  we  walked 
slowly,  so  that  it  was  not  till  two  o'clock  that 
we  saw  the  castellated  rocks  on  the  side  cf  the 
Gaissberg,  guarding  the  entrance  to  the  valley 
of  Salzburg.  A  short  distance  fuither,  the 
whole  glorious  panorama  was  spread  out  I  clow 
us.  From  the  height  on  which  we  stood,  we 
looked  directly  on  the  summit  of  the  Capuchin 
Mountain, which  hid  part  of  thecity  from  sight; 
the  double  peak  of  the  Rtaufen  rose  opposite, 
and  a  heavy  storm  was  raging  along  the  Alpine 
heights  around  it,  while  the  lovely  valley  lay  in 
sunshine  below,  threaded  by  the  bright  "current 


230  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

of  the  Salza.  As  we  descended  and  pn 
around  the  foot  of  the  hill,  the  Untersberg  cnine 
in  sight,  whose  broad  summits  lift  themselves 
seven  thousand  feet  above  the  plain.  The  le- 
gend says  that  Charlemagne  and  his  warriors 
sit  in  its  subterraneous  caverns  in  complete 
armor,  and  that  they  will  arise  and  come  forth 
again,  when  Germany  recovers  her  former  power 
and  glory. 

I  wish  I  could  convey  in  words  some  idea  of 
the  elevation  of  spirit  experienced  while  looking 
on  these  eternal  mountains.  They  fill  the  soul 
with  a  sensation  of  power  and  grandeur  which 
frees  it  awhile  from  the  cramps  and  fetters  of 
common  life.  It  rises  and  expands  to  the  level 
of  their  sublimity,  till  its  thoughts  stand  sol- 
emnly aloft,  like  their  summits,  piercing  the  free 
heaven.  Their  dazzling  and  imperishable  beauty 
is  to  the  mind  an  image  of  its  own  enduring  ex- 
istence. When  I  stand  upon  some  snowy  sum- 
mit— the  invisible  apex  of  that  mighty  pyramid 
— there  seems  a  majesty  in  my  weak  will  which 
might  defy  the  elements.  This  sense  of  power, 
inspired  by  a  silent  sympathy  with  the  forms  of 
nature,  is  beautifully  described — as  shown  in  the 
free  unconscious  instincts  of  childhood — by  the 
poet  Uhland,  in  his  ballad  of  the  "Mountain 
Boy."  I  have  attempted  a  translation: 


THE  MOUNTAIN  BOY. 

A  herd-boy  on  the  mountain's  brow 
I  see  the  castles  all  below 
The  sunbeam  here  is  earliest  cast 
And  by  my  side  it  lingers  last — 
I  am  the  boy  of  the  mountain! 

The  mother-house  of  streams  is  here 
I  drink  them  in  their  cradles  clear; 
From  out  the  rock  they  foam  below, 
J  spring  to  catch  them  as  they  go! 
I  am  the  boy  of  the  mountain! 


BIR  THPL  A  CE  OF  MOZA  R  T.  231 

To  me  belongs  the  mountain's  bound, 
Where  gathering  tempests  march  around; 
But  though  from  north  and  south  they  shout, 
Above  them  still  my  song  rings  out — 
"  I  am  the  boy  of  the  mountain!" 

Below  me  clouds  and  thunders  move; 
I  stand  amid  the  blue  above. 
I  shout  to  them  with  fearless  breast: 
"Go,  leave  my  father's  house  in  rest!" 
I  am  the  boy  of  the  mountain! 

And  when  the  loud  -bell  shakes  the  spires 
And  flame  aloft  the  signal-fires, 
I  go  below  and  join  the  throng 
And  swing  my  sword  and  sing  my  song: 
"  I  am  the  boy  of  the  mountain! " 

Salzburg  lies  on  both  sides  of  the  Salza,  hem- 
med in  on  either  hand  by  precipitous  mount- 
ains. A  large  fortress  overlooks  it  on  the 
south,  from  the  summit  of  a  perpendicular  rock, 
against  which  the  houses  in  that  part  of  the  city 
are  built.  The  streets  are  narrow  and  crooked, 
but  the  newer  part  contains  many  open  squares, 
adorned  with  handsome  fountains.  The  variety 
of  costume  among  the  people,  is  very  interest- 
ing. The  inhabitants  of  the  salt  district  have  a 
peculiar  dress ;  the  women  wear  round  fur  caps, 
with  little  wings  of  gauze  at  the  side.  I  saw 
other  women  with  head-dresses  of  gold  or  silver 
filngree,  something  in  shape  like  a  Roman  hel- 
met, with  a  projection  at  the  back  of  the  head, 
a  foot  long.  The  most  interesting  objects  in 
Salzburg  to  us,  were  the  house  of  Mozart,  in 
which  the  composer  was  born,  and  the  monu- 
ment lately  erected  to  him.  The  St.  Peter's 
Church,  near  by,  contains  the  tomb  of  Haydn, 
the  great  composer,  and  the  Church  of  St.  Se- 
bastian, that  of  the  renowned  Paracelsus,  who 
was  also  a  native  of  Salzburg. 

Two  or  three  hours  sufficed  to  see  every  thing 
of  interest  in  the  city.  We  had  intended  to  go 
further  through  the  Alps,  to  the  beautiful  vales 


232  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

of  the  Tyrol,  but  our  time  was  getting  phort, 
our  boots,  which  are  the  pedestrian's  sole 
dependence,  began  to  show  symptoms  of  wear- 
ing out,  and  our  expenses  among  the  lakes  and 
mountains  of  Upper  Austria,  left  us  but  two 
florins  apiece,  so  we  reluctantly  turned  our 
backs  upon  the  snowy  hills  and  set  out  for 
Munich,  ninety  miles  distant.  After  passing  the 
night  at  Saalbruck,  on  the  banks  of  the  stream 
which  separates  the  two  kingdoms,  we  entered 
Bavaria  next  morning.  I  could  not  help  feeling 
glad  to  leave  Austria,  although  within  her 
bounds  1  had  passed  scenes  whose  beauty  will 
long  haunt  me,  and  met  with  many  honest 
friendly  hearts  among  her  people.  We  noticed 
a  change  as  soon  as  we  had  crossed  the  border. 
The  reads  were  neater  and  handsomer,  and  the 
country  people  greeted  us  in  going  by,  with  a 
friendly  cheerfulness  that  made  us  feel  half  at 
home.  The  houses  are  built  in  the  picturesque 
Swiss  fashion,  their  balconies  often  ornamented 
with  curious  figures,  carved  in  wood.  Many  of 
them,  where  they  are  situated  remote  firm  a 
church,  have  a  little  bell  on  the  loof  which  they 
ring  for  morning  and  evening  prayers ;  we  often 
-heard  these  simple  monitors  sounding  ft  cm  the 
cottages  as  we  passed  by. 

The  next  night  we  stopped  at  the  little  village 
of  Stein,  famous  in  former  times  for  its  robber- 
knight,  Hans  von  Stein.  The  ruins  of  his  castle 
stand  on  the  rock  above,  and  the.raveins  hewn 
in  the  sides  of  the  precipice,  -uheie  lie  used  to 
confine  his  prisoners,  are  still  visible.  Walking 
on  through  a  pleasant,  well  cultivated  country, 
we  came  to  Wasserburg,  on  the  Inn.  The  situa- 
tion of  the  city  is  peculiar.  The  Inn  has  grad- 
ually worn  his  channel  deeper  in  the  sandy  soil, 
so  that  he  now  flows  at  the  bottom  of  a  glen, 
a  hundred  feet  below  the  plains  around.  Was- 
serburg lies  in  a  basin,  formed  by  the  change  of 
the  current,  which  flows  around  it  like  a  horse- 


A RRI VAL  AT  M UNICH.  233 

shoe,  leaving  only  a  narrow  neck  of  land  which 
connects  it  with  the  country  above. 

We  left  the  little  village  where  we  were  quar- 
tered for  the  night  and  took  a  foot  path  which 
led  across  the  country  to  the  field  of  Hohenlin- 
den,  about  six  miles  distant.  The  name  had 
been  familiar  to  me  from  childhood,  and  my 
love  for  Campbell,  with  the  recollection  of  the 
school-exhibitions  where  "On  Linden  when  the 
sun  was  low"  had  been  so  often  declaimed,  in- 
duced me  to  make  the  excursion  to  it.  We 
traversed  a  large  forest,  belonging  to  the  King 
of  Bavaria,  and  came  out  on  a  plain  covered 
with  grain-fields  and  bounded  on  the  right  by  a 
semi-circle  of  low  hills.  Over  the  fields,  about 
two  miles  distant,  a  tall,  minaret-like  spire  rose 
from  a  small  cluster  of  houses,  and  this  was 
Hohenlinden?  To  tell  the  truth  I  had  been  ex- 
pecting something  more.  The  "hills  of  blood- 
stained snow"  are  very  small  hills  indeed,  and 
the  "Isar,  rolling  rapidly,"  is  several  miles  off; 
it  was  the  spot,  however,  and  we  recited  Camp- 
bell's poem,  of  course,  and  brought  away  a  few 
wild  flowers  as  memorials.  There  is  no  monu- 
ment or  any  other  token  of  the  battle,  and  the 
people  seem  to  endeavor  to  forget  the  scene  ot 
Moreau's  victory  and  their  defeat. 

From  a  hill  twelve  miles  off  we  had  our  first 
view  of  the  spires  of  Munich,  looking  like  distant 
ships  over  the  sea-like  plain.  They  kept  in  sight 
till  we  arrived  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
after  a  walk  of  more  than  thirty  miles.  We 
crossed  the  rapid  Isar  on  three  bridges,  entered 
the  ,magnificent  Isar  Gate,  and  were  soon  com- 
fortably quartered  in  the  heart  of  Munich. 

Entering  the  city  without  knowing  a  single 
soul  within  it,  we  made  within  a  few  minutes  an 
agreeable  aquaintance.  After  we  had  passed 
the  Isar  Gate,  we  began  looking  for  a  decent 
inn,  for  the  day's  walk  was  very  fatiguing. 
Presently  a  young  man,  who  had  been  watching 


234  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

us  for  some  time,  came  up  and  said,  if  we  would 
allow  him,  he  would  conduct  us  to  a  good  lodg- 
ing place.  Finding  we  were  strangers,  he  ex- 
pressed the  greatest  regret  that  he  had  not  time 
to  go  with  us  every  day  around  the  city.  Our 
surprise  and  delight  at  the  splendor  of  Munich, 
he  said,  would  more  than  repay  him  for  the 
trouble.  In  his  anxiety  to  show  us  something 
he  took  us  some  distance  out  of  the  way, 
(although  it  was  growing  dark  and  we  were 
very  tired,)  to  see  the  Palace  and  the  Theatre, 
with  its  front  of  rich  frescoes. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

MUNICH. 

June  14. — I  thought  I  had  seen  every  thing  in 
Vienna  that  could  excite  admiration  or  gratify 
fancy ;  here  I  have  my  former  sensations  to  live 
over  again,  in  an  augmented  degree.  It  is  well 
I  was  at  first  somewhat  prepared  by  our  pre- 
vious travel,  otherwise  the  glare  and  splendor 
of  wealth  and  art  in  this  German  Athens  might 
blind  me  to  the  beauties  of  the  cities  we  shall 
yet  visit.  I  have  been  walking  in  a  dream  where 
the  fairy  tales  of  boyhood  were  realized,  and  the 
golden  and  jeweled  halls  of  the  Eastern  genii 
rose  glittering  around  me — "a  vision  of  the 
brain  no  more."  All  I  had  conceived  of  oriental 
magnificence,  all  descriptions  of  the  splendor  of 
kingly  halls  and  palaces,  fall  far  short  of  what 
I  here  see.  Where  shall  I  begin  to  describe  the 
crowd  of  splendid  edifices  that  line  its  streets, 
or  how  give  an  idea  of  the  profusion  of  paint- 
iiiii's  and  statues^-of  marble,  jasper  and  gold? 

Art  has  done  everything  for  Munich,     it  lies 


MUNICH.  231 

on  a  large,  flat  plain,  sixteen  hundred  feet  above 
the  sea,  and  continually  exposed  to  the  cold 
winds  from  the  Alps.  At  the  beginning  of  the 
present  century  it  was  but  a  third-rate  city, 
and  was  rarely  visited  by  foreigners.  Since  that 
time  its  population  and  limits  have  been  doubled, 
and  magnificent  edifices  in  every  style  of  archi- 
tecture erected,  rendering  it  scarcely  secondary 
in  this  respect  to  any  capital  in  Europe.  Every 
art  that  wealth  or  taste  could  devise,  seems  to 
have  been  spent  in  its  decoration.  Broad,  spac- 
ious streets  and  squares  have  been  laid  out, 
churches,  halls  and  colleges  erected,  and  schools 
of  painting  and  sculpture  established,  which 
draw  artists  from  all  parts  of  the  world.  All 
this  was  principally  brought  about  by  the  taste 
of  the  present  king,  Ludwig  I.,  who  began  twenty 
or  thirty  years  ago,  when  he  was  Crown  Prince, 
to  collect  the  best  German  artists  around  him 
and  form  plans  for  the  execution  of  his  grand 
design.  He  can  boast  of  having  done  more  for 
the  arts  than  any  other  living  monarch,  and  if 
he  had  accomplished  it  all  without  oppressing 
his  people,  he  would  deserve  an  immortality  of 
fame. 

Now,  if  you  have  nothing  else  to  do,  let  us 
take  a  stroll  down  the  Ludwigstrasse.  As  we 
pass  the  Theatiner  Church,  with  its  dome  and 
towers,  the  broad  street  opens  before  us,  stretch- 
ing away  to  the  north,  between  rows  of  magnifi- 
cent buildings.  Just  at  this  southern  end,  is  the 
Schlusshalle,  an  open  temple  of  white  marble 
terminating  the  avenue.  To  the  right  of  us  ex- 
tend the  arcades,  with  the  trees  of  the  Royal 
Garden  peeping  above  them;  on  the  left  is  the 
spacious  concert  building  of  the  Odeon,  and  the 
palace  of  the  Duke  of  Leuchtenberg,  son  of  Eu- 
gene Beauharnois.  Passing  through  a  row  of 
palace-like  private  buildings,  we  come  to  the 
0Army  Department,  on  the  right — a  neat  and 
"tasteful  building  of  white  sandstone.  Beside  it 


&J8  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

stands  the  Library,  which  possesses  the  first 
special  claim  on  our  admiration.  With  its  splen- 
did front  of  five  hundred  and  eighteen  feet,  the 
yellowish  brown  cement  with  winch  the  body  is 
covered,  making  an  agreeable  contrast  with  the 
dark  red  window-arches  and  cornices,  and  the 
statues  of  Homer,  Hippocrates,  Thucydides 
and  Arktotle  guarding  the  portal,  is  it  not 
a  worthy  receptacle  for  the  treasures  of  ancient 
and  modern  lore  which  its  halls  contain? 

Nearly  opposite  stands  the  Institute  for  the 
Blind,  a  plain  but  large  building  of  dark  red 
brick,  covered  with  cement,  and  further,  the 
Ludwig's  Kirche,  or  Church  of  St.  Louis.  How 
lightly  the  two  square  towers  of  gray  marble 
lift  their  network  of  sculpture!  And  what  a 
novel  and  beautiful  effect  is  produced  by 
uniting  the  Byzantine  style  of  architecture  to 
the  form  of  the  Latin  cross !  Over  the  arched 
portal  stand  marble  statues  by  Schwanthaler, 
and  the  roof  of  brilliant  tiles  worked  into  mo- 
saic, looks  like  a  rich  Turkey  carpet  covering 
the  whole.  We  must  enter  to  get  an  idea  of  the 
splendor  of  this  church.  Instead  of  the  pointed 
arch  which  one  would  expect  to  see  meeting 
above  his  head,  the  lofty  pillars  on  each  side 
bear  an  unbroken  semicircular  vault,  which  is 
painted  a  brilliant  blue,  and  spangled  with  silver 
stars.  These  pillars,  and  the  little  arches  above, 
which  spring  from  them,  are  painted  in  an  ara- 
besque style  with  gold  and  brilliant  colors,  and 
each  side-chapel  is  a  perfect  casket  of  richness 
and  elegance.  The  windows  are  of  silvered  glass, 
through  which  the  light  glimmers  softly  on  the 
splendor  within.  The  whole  end  of  the  church 
behind  the  high  altar,  is  taken  up  with  Corne- 
lius' celebrated  fresco  painting  of  the  "Last 
Judgment," — the  largest  painting  in  the  world — 
and  the  circular  dome  in  the  centre  of  the  cross 
contains  groups  of  martyrs,  prophets,  saints 
and  kings,  painted  in  fresco  on  a  ground  of  gold. 


THE  SPLENDOR  Of  MUNICH.  337 

The  work  of  Cornelius  has  been  greatly  praised 
for  sublimity  of  design  and  beauty  of  execution, 
by  many  acknowledged  judges;  I  was  disap- 
pointed in  it,  but  the  fault  lay  most  probably  in 
me  and  not  in  the  painting.  The  richness  and 
elegance  of  the  church  took  me  all  "aback;"  it 
was  so  entirely  different  from  anything  I  had 
seen,  that  it  was  difficult  to  decide  whether  I  was 
most  charmed  by  its  novelty  or  its  beauty.  Still, 
as  a  building  designed  to  excite  feelings  of  wor- 
ship, it  seems  to  me  inappropriate.  A  vast,  dim 
Cathedral  would  be  far  preferable;  the  devout, 
humble  heart  cannot  feel  at  home  amid  such 
glare  and  brightness. 

As  we  leave  the  church  and  walk  further  on, 
the  street  expands  suddenly  into  a  broad  square. 
One  side  is  formed  by  the  new  University  build- 
ing and  the  other  by  the  Royal  Seminary,  both 
displaying  in  their  architecture  new  forms  of  the 
graceful  Byzantine  school,  which  the  architects 
of  Munich  have  adapted  in  a  striking  manner  to 
so  many  varied  purposes.  On  each  side  stands 
a  splendid  colossal  fountain  of  bronze,  throwing 
up  a  great  mass  of  water,  which  falls  in  a  triple 
cataract  to  the  marble  basin  below.  A  short 
distance  beyond  this  square  the  Ludwigstrasse 
terminates.  It  is  said  the  end  will  be  closed  by 
a  magnificent  gate,  on  a  style  to  correspond 
with  the  unequalled  avenue  to  which  it  will  give, 
entrance.  To  one  standing  at  the  southern  end, 
it  would  form  a  proper  termination  to  the 
grand  vista.  Before  we  leave,  turn  around  and 
glance  back,  down  this  street,  which  extends  for 
half  a  mile  between  such  buildings  as  we  have 
just  viewed,  and  tell  me  if  it  is  not  something  of 
which  a  city  and  a  king  may  boast,  to  have 
created  all  this  within  less  than  twenty  years. 

We  went  one  morning  to  see  the  collection  of 
paintings  formerly  belonging  to  Eugene  Beau- 
harnois,  who  was  a  brother-in-law  to  the  present 
king  of  Bavaria,  in  the  palace  of  his  son,  the 


238  VIEWS  A-P60T. 

Duke  of  Leuchtenberg.  The  first  hall  contains 
works  principally  by  French  artists,  among 
which  are  two  by  Gerard — a  beautiful  portrait 
of  Josephine,  and  the  blind  Belisarius  carrying 
his  dead  companion.  The  boy's  head  lies  on  the 
old  man's  shoulder;  but  for  the  livid  paleness  of 
his  limbs,  he  would  seem  to  be  only  asleep,  while 
a  deep  and  settled  sorrow  marks  the  venerable 
features  of  the  unfortunate  Emperor.  In  the 
middle  of  the  room  are  six  pieces  of  statu- 
ary, among  which  Canova's  world-renowned 
group  of  the  Graces  at  once  attracts  the  eye. 
There  is  also  a  kneeling  Magdalen,  lovely  in  her 
woe,  by  the  same  sculptor,  and  a  very  touching 
work  of  Schadow,  representing  a  shepherd  boy 
tenderly  binding  his  sash  around  a  lamb  which 
he  has  accidentally  wounded  with  his  arrow. 

We  have  since  seen  in  the  St.  Michael's  Church, 
the  monument  to  Eugene  Beauharnois,  from  the 
chisel  of  Thorwaldsen.  The  noble,  manly  figure 
of  the  son  of  Josephine  is  represented  in  the  Ko- 
man  mantle,  with  his  helmet  and  sword  lying  on 
the  ground  by  him.  On  one  side  sits  History, 
writing  on  a  tablet;  on  the  other,  stand  the  two 
brother  angels,  Death  and  Immortality.  They 
lean  lovingly  together,  with  arms  around  each 
other,  but  the  sweet  countenance  of  Death  has  a 
cast  of  sorrow,  as  he  stands  with  inverted  torch 
and  a  wreath  of  poppies  among  his  clustering 
locks.  Immortality,  crowned  with  never-fading 
flowers,  looks  upwards  with  a  smile  of  triumph, 
and  holds  in  one  hand  his  blazing  torch.  It  is 
a  beautiful  idea,  and  Thorwaldsen  has  made  the 
marble  eloquent  with  feeling. 

The  inside  of  the  square  formed  by  the  Arcades 
and  the  New  Residence,  is  filled  with  noble  old 
trees,  which  in  summer  make  a  leafy  roof  over 
the  pleasant  walks.  In  the  middle,  stands  a 
grotto,  ornamented  with  rough  pebbles  and 
shells,  and  only  needing  a  fountain  to  make  it  a 
perfect  hall  of  Neptune.  Passing  through  the 


YHE  NEW  RESIDENCE.  239 

northern  Arcade,  one  comes  into  the  magnificent 
park,  called  the  English  Garden,  which  extends 
more  than  four  miles  along  the  bank  of  thelsar, 
several  branches  of  whose  milky  current  wander 
thro  ugh  it,  and  form  one  or  two  pretty  cascades. 
It  is  a  beautiful  alteration  of  forest  and  meadow, 
and  has  all  the  richness  and  garden-like  luxu- 
riance of  English  scenery.  Winding  walks  lead 
along  the  Isar,  or  through  the  wood  of  vener- 
able oaks,  and  sometimes  a  lawn  of  half  a  mile 
in  length,  Avith  a  picturesque  temple  at  its  farther 
end,  comes  in  sight  through  the  trees.  I  was  bet- 
ter pi  eased  with  this  park  than  with  the  Prater  in 
Vienna.  Its  paths  are  always  filled  with  persons 
enjoying  the  change  from  the  dusty  streets  to 
its  quiet  and  cool  retirement. 

The  New  Residence  is  not  only  one  of  the  won- 
ders of  Munich,  but  of  the  world.  Although 
commenced  in  1826  and  carried  on  constantly 
since  that  time  by  a  number  of  architects,  sculp- 
tors and  painters,  it  is  not  yet  finished;  if  art 
were  not  inexhaustible  it  would  be  difficult  to 
imagine  what  more  could  be  added.  The  north 
side  of  the  Max  Joseph  Platz  is  taken  up  by  its 
front  of  four  hundred  and  thirty  feet,  which  was 
nine  years  in  building,  under  the  direction  of  the 
architect  Klenze.  The  exterior  is  copied  after 
Palazzo  Pitti,  in  Florence.  The  building  is  of 
light  brown  sandstone,  and  combines  an  ele- 
gance and  even  splendor,  with  the  most  chaste 
and  classic  style.  The  northern  front,  which 
faces  on  the  Royal  Garden,  is  now  nearly  fin- 
ished. It  has  the  enormous  length  of  eight  hun- 
dred feet;  in  the  middle  is  a  portico  often  Ionic 
columns ;  instead  of  supporting  a  triangular  fa- 
cade, each  pillar  stands  separate  and  bears  a 
marble  statue  from  the  chisel  of  Schwanthaler. 

The  interior  of  the  building  does  not  disap- 
point the  promise  of  the  outside.  It  is  open 
every  afternoon  in  the  absence  of  the  king,  for 
the  inspection  of  visitors;  fortunately  for  us,  his 


240  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

majesty  is  at  present  on  a  journey  through  his 
provinces  on  the  Rhine.  We  went  early  to  the 
waiting  hall,  where  several  travellers  were  al- 
ready assembled,  and  at  four  o'clock,  were  ad- 
mitted into  the  newer  part  of  the  palace,  con- 
taining the  throne  hall,  ball  room,  etc.  On 
entering  the  first  hall,  designed  for  the  lackeys 
and  royal  servants,  we  were  all  obliged  to 
thrust  our  feet  into  cloth  slippers  to  walk  over 
the  polished  mosaic  floor.  The  walls  are  of  sca- 
gliola  marble  and  the  ceilings  ornamented  bril- 
liantly in  fresco.  The  second  hall,  also  for  serv- 
ants, gives  tokens  of  increasing  splendor  in  the 
richer  decorations  of  the  walls  and  the  more 
elaborate  mosaic  of  the  floor.  We  next  entered 
the  receiving  saloon,  in  which  the  Court  Mar- 
shal receives  the  guests.  The  ceiling  is  of  ara- 
besque sculpture,  profusely  painted  and  gilded. 
Passing  through  a  little  cabinet,  we  entered  the 
great  dancing  saloon.  Its  floor  is  the  richest 
mosaic  of  wood  of  different  colors,  the  sides  are 
of  polished  scagliola  marble,  and  the  ceiling  a 
dazzling  mixture  of  sculpture,  painting  and  gold. 
At  one  end  is  a  gallery  for  the  orchestra,  .sup- 
ported by  six  columns  of  variegated  marble, 
above  which  are  six  dancing  nymphs,  painted  so 
beautifully  that  they  appear  like  living  creatures. 
Every  decoration  which  could  be  devised  has 
been  used  to  heighten  its  splendor,  and  the 
artists  appear  to  have  made  free  use  of  the  Ara- 
bian Knights  in  forming  the  plan. 

We  entered  next  two  smaller  rooms  containing 
the  portraits  of  beautiful  women,  principally 
from  the  German  nobility.  I  gave  the  prefer- 
ence to  the  daughter  of  Marco  Bozzaris,  now 
maid  of  honor  to  the  Queen  of  Greece.  She  had 
a  wild  dark  eye,  a  beautiful  proud  lip,  and  her 
rich  black  hair  rolled  in  glossy  waves  down  her 
neck  from  under  the  red  tifrecian  cap  stuck 
jauntily  on  the  side  of  her  head.  She  v  ore  a 
scarf  and  close-fitting  vest  embroidered  with 


HAL'L  OF  THE  THRONE.  241 

gold,  and  there  was  a  free,  lofty  spirit  in  her 
countenance  worthy  the  name  she  bore.  These 
pictures  form  a  gallery  of  beauty,  whose  equal 
cannot  easily  be  found. 

Returning  to  the  dancing  hall,  wre  entered  the 
dining  saloon,  also  called  the  Hall  of  Charle- 
magne. Each  wall  has  two  magnificent  fresco 
paintings  of  very  large  size,  representing  some 
event  in  the  life  of  the  great  emperor,  beginning 
with  his  annoiuting  at  St.  Deny's  as  a  boy  of 
twelve  years,  and  ending  with  his  coronation  by 
Leo  III.  A  second  dining  saloon,  the  Hall  of 
Barbarossa,  adjoins  the  first.  It  has  also  eight 
frescoes  as  the  former,  representing  the  principal 
events  in  the  life  of  Frederic  Barbarossa.  Then 
comes  a  third,  called  the  Hapsburg  Hall,  with 
four  grand  paintings  from  the  life  of  Rudolph  of 
Hapsburg,  and  a  triumphal  procession  along 
the  frieze,  showing  the  improvement  in  the  arts 
and  sciences  which  was  accomplished  under  his 
reign.  The  drawing,  composition  and  rich  tone 
of  coloring  of  these  glorious  frescoes,  are 
scarcely  excelled  by  any  in  existence. 

Finally  we  entered  the  Hall  of  the  Throne. 
Here  the  encaustic  decoration,  so  plentifully  em- 
ployed in  the  other  rooms,  is  dropped,  and  an 
effect  even  more  brilliant  obtained  by  the  united 
use  of  marble  and  gold.  Picture  a  longhall  with 
a  floor  of  polished  marble,  on  each  side  twelve 
columns  of  white  marble  with  gilded  capitals, 
between  which  stand  colossal  statues  of  gold. 
At  the  other  end  is  the  throne  of  gold  and  crim- 
son, with  gorgeous  hangings  of  crimson  velvet. 
The  twelve  statues  in  the  hall  are  called  the 
"Wittlesbach  Ancestors,"  and  represent  re- 
nowned members  of  the  house  of  Wittlesbach 
from  which  the  present  family  of  Bavaria  is  de- 
scended .  They  were  cast  in  bronze  by  Stiglmaier, 
after  the  models  of  Schwanthaler,  and  then  com- 
pletely covered  with  a  coating  of  gold,  so  that 
they  resemble  solid  golden  statues.  The  value 


242  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

of  the  precious  metal  on  each  one  is  about  f  3,000, 
as  they  arc  nine  feet  in  height!  What  would  the 
politicians  who  made  such  an  outcry  about  the 
new  papering  of  the  President's  House,  say  to 
such  a  palace  as  this? 

Going  back  to  the  starting  point,  we  went 
to  the  other  wing  of  the  edifice  and  joined  the 
party  who  came  to  visit  the  apartments  of  the 
king.  Here  we  were  led  through  two  or  three 
rooms,  appropriated  to  the  servants,  with  all 
the  splendor  of  marble  doors,  floors  of  mosaic, 
and  frescoed  ceilings.  From  these  we  entered 
the  king's  dwelling.  The  entrance  halls  are  dec- 
orated with  paintings  of  the  Argonauts  and  illus- 
trations of  the  Hymns  of  Hesiod,  after  drawings 
by  Schwanthaler.  Then  came  the  Service  Hall, 
containing  frescoes  illustrating  Homer,  by 
Schnorr,  and  the  Throne  Hall,  with  Schwanthal- 
er's  bas-reliefs  of  the  songs  of  Pindar,  on  a 
ground  of  gold.  The  throne  stands  under  a 
splendid  crimson  canopy.  The  Dining  Room 
with  its  floor  of  polished  wood  is  filled  with  illus- 
trations of  the  songs  of  Anacreon.  To  these 
follow  the  Dressing  Room,  with  twenty-seven  il- 
lustrations of  the  Comedies  of  Aristophanes,  and 
the  sleeping  chamber  with  frescoes  after  the 
poems  of  Theocritus,  and  two  beautiful  bas-re- 
liefs representing  angels  bearing  children  to 
Heaven.  It  is  no  wonder  the  King  writes  poetry 
when  he  breathes,  eats,  and  even  sleeps  in  an 
atmosphere  of  it. 

We  were  shown  the  rooms  for  the  private 
parties  of  the  Court,  the  school-room,  with 
scenes  from  the  life  of  the  Ancient  Greeks,  and 
then  conducted  down  the  marble  staircase  to 
the  lower  story,  which  is  to  contain  Schnprr's 
magnificent  frescoes  of  the  Nibelungen  Lied— 
the  old  German  Iliad.  Two  halls  are  at  present 
finished ;  the  first  has  the  figure  of  the  author, 
Heinrich  von  Ofterdingen,  and  those  of  Chriem- 
hjlde,  Brunhilde,  Siegfried  and  the  other  person- 


THE  ROTAL  CHAPEL.  243 

ages  of  the  poem ;  and  the  second,  called  the 
M;i  rriag*e  Hall,  contains  the  marriage  of  Chriem- 
hilde  and  Siegfried,  and  the  triumphal  entry  of 
Siegfried  into  Worms. 

Adjoining  the  new  residence  on  the  east,  is  the 
Royal  Chapel,  lately  finished  in  the  Byzantine 
style,  under  the  direction  of  Klenze.  To  enter 
it,  is  like  stepping  into  a  casket  of  jewels.  The 
sides  are  formed  by  a  double  range  of  arches, 
the  windows  being  so  far  back  as  to  be  almost 
out  of  sight,  so  that  the  eye  falls  on  nothing  but 
painting  and  gold.  The  lower  row  of  arches  is 
of  alternate  green  and  purple  marble,  beauti- 
fully polished ;  but  the  upper,  as  well  as  the  small 
chancel  behind  the  high  altar,  is  entirely  covered 
with  fresco  paintings  on  a  ground  of  gold! 
The  richness  and  splendor  of  the  whole  church  is 
absolutely  incredible.  Even  after  one  has  seen 
the  Lud wig's  Kirche  and  the  Residence  itself,  it 
excites  astonishment.  I  was  surprised,  however, 
to  find  at  this  age,  a  painting  on  the  wall  behind 
the  altar,  representing  the  Almighty.  It  seems 
as  if  man's  presumption  has  no  end.  The  sim- 
ple altar  of  Athens,  with  its  inscription  "  to  the 
Unknown  God,"  was  more  truly  reverent  than 
this.  As  I  sat  down  awhile  under  one  of  the 
arches,  a  poor  woman  came  in,  carrying  a  heavy 
basket,  and  going  to  the  steps  which  led  up  to 
the  altar,  knelt  down  and  prayed,  spreading  her 
arms  out  in  the  form  of  a  cross.  Then,  after 
stooping  and  kissing  the  first  step,  she  dragged 
herself  with  her  knees  upon  it,  and  commenced 
praying  again  with  outspread  arms.  This  she 
continued  till  she  had  climbed  them  all,  which 
occupied  some  time ;  then,  as  if  she  had  fulfilled 
a  vow  she  turned  and  departed.  She  was  un- 
doubtedly sincere  in  her  piety,  but  it  made  me 
sad  to  look  upon  such  deluded  superstition. 

Wo  visited  yesterday  morning  tlioCllvptothek, 
the  finest  collection  of  ancient  sculpture  except 
that  in  the  British  Museum,  I  have  yet  seen,  ancj. 


244  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

perhaps  elsewhere  unsurpassed,  north  of  the 
Alps.  The  building  which  was  finished  by 
Klenze,  in  1830,  has  an  Ionic  portico  of  white 
marble,  with  a  group  of  allegorical  figures,  rep- 
resenting Sculpture  and  the  kindred  arts.  On 
each  side  of  the  portico,  there  are  three  niches  in 
the  front,  containing  on  one  side,  Pericles,  Phid- 
ias and  Vulcan ;  on  the  other,  Hadrian,  Prome- 
theus and  Daedalus.  The  whole  building  forms 
a  hollow  square,  and  is  lighted  entirely  from  the 
inmer  side.  There  are  in  all  twelve  halls,  each 
containing  the  remains  of  a  particular  era  in  the 
art,  and  arranged  according  to  time,  so  that, 
beginning  with  the  clumsy  productions  of  the 
ancient  Egyptians,  one  passes  through  the  differ- 
ent stages  of  Grecian  art,  afterwards  that  of 
Rome,  and  finally  ends  with  the  works  of  our 
own  times — the  almost  Grecian  perfection  of 
Thorwaldsen  and  Canova.  These  halls  are 
worthy  to  hold  such  treasures,  and  what  more 
could  be  said  of  them?  The  floors  are  of  mar- 
ble mosaic,  the  sides  of  green  or  purple  scagliola, 
and  the  vaulted  ceilings  covered  with  raised  or- 
naments on  a  ground  of  gold.  No  two  are  alike 
in  color  and  decoration,  and  yet  there  is  a  unity 
of  taste  and  design  in  the  whole,  which  renders 
the  variety  delightful. 

From  the  Egyptian  Hall,  we  enter  one  con* 
fcaining  the  oldest  remains  of  Grecian  sculpture, 
before  the  artists  won  power  to  mould  the 
marble  to  their  conceptions.  Then  follow  the 
celebrated  Egina  marbles,  from  the  temple  of 
Jupiter  Panhellenius,  on  the  island  of  Egina. 
They  formerly  stood  in  the  two  porticoes,  the 
one  group  representing  the  fight  for  the  body  of 
Laomedon,  the  other  the  struggle  for  the  dead 
Patroclus.  The  parts  wanting  have  been  ad- 
mirably restored  by  Thorwaldsen.  They  form 
almost  the  only  existing  specimens  of  the  E<iine- 
tan  school.  Passing  through  the  Apollo  Hall, 
we  enter  the  large  hall  of  Bacchus,  in  which  the 


THE  PINACOTHBK.  245 

progress  of  the  art  is  distinctly  apparent.  A 
satyr,  lying  asleep  on  a  goat-skin  which  he  has 
thrown  over  a  rock,  is  believed  to  be  the  work 
of  Praxiteles.  The  relaxation  of  the  figure  and 
perfect  repose  of  every  limb,  is  wonderful.  The 
countenance  has  traits  of  individuality  which 
led  me  to  think  it  might  have  been  a  portrait, 
perhaps  of  some  rude  country  swain. 

In  the  Hall  of  Niobe,  which  follows,  is  one  of 
the  most  perfect  works  that  ever  grew  into  life 
under  a  sculptor's  chisel.  Mutilated  as  it  is, 
without  head  and  arms,  I  never  saw  a  more  ex- 
pressive figure.  Ilioneus,  the  son  of  Niobe,  is 
represented  as  kneeling,  apparently  in  the  mo- 
ment in  which  Apollo  raises  his  arrow,  and  there 
is  an  imploring  supplication  in  his  attitude 
which  is  touching  in  the  highest  degree.  His 
beautiful  young  limbs  seem  to  shrink  involun- 
tarily from  the  deadly  shaft ;  there  is  an  expres- 
sion of  prayer,  almost  of  agony,  in  the  position 
of  his  body.  It  should  be  left  untouched.  No 
head  could  be  added,  which  would  equal  that 
one  pictures  to  himself,  while  gazing  upon  it. 

The  Pinacothek  is  a  magnificent  building  of 
yellow  sandstone,  five  hundred  and  thirty  feet 
long,  containing  thirteen  hundred  pictures,  se- 
lected with  great  care  from  the  whole  private 
collection  of  the  king,  which  amounts  to  nine 
thousand.  Above  the  cornice  on  the  southern 
side,  stand  twenty-five  colossal  statues  of  cele- 
brated painters,  by  Schwanthaler.  As  we  ap- 
proached, the  tall  bronze  door  was  opened  by  a 
servant  in  the  Bavarian  livery,  whose  size  har- 
monized so  well  with  the  giant  proportions  of 
the  building,  that  until  I  stood  beside  him  and 
could  mark  the  contrast,  I  did  not  notice  his 
enormous  frame.  I  saw  then  that  he  must  be 
near  eight  feet  high,  and  stout  in  proportion. 
He  reminded  me  of  the  great  "Baver  of  Trient," 
in  Vienna.  The  Pinacothek  contains  the  most 
complete  collection  of  works  by  old  German  art- 


246  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

ists,  anywhere  to  be  found.  There  are  in  the 
hall  of  the  Spanish  masters,  half  a  dozen  of  Mu- 
rillo's  inimitable  beggar  groups.  It  was  a  relief, 
after  looking  upon  the  distressingly  stiff  figures 
of  the  old  German  school,  to  view  these  fresh, 
natural  countenances.  One  little  black-eyed 
boy  has  just  cut  a  slice  out  of  a  melon  and  turns 
with  a  full  mouth  to  his  companion,  who  is  busy 
eating  a  bunch  of  grapes.  The  simple,  con- 
tented expression  on  the  faces  of  the  beggars  is 
admirable.  I  thought  I  detected  in  a  beautiful 
child,  with  dark  curly  locks,  the  original  of  his 
celebrated  Infant  St.  John.  I  was  much  inter- 
ested in  two  small  juvenile  works  of  Raphael  and 
his  own  portrait.  The  latter  was  taken  most 
probably  after  he  became  known  as  a  painter. 
The  calm,  serious  smile  which  we  see  on  his  por- 
trait as  a  boy,  had  vanished,  and  the  thin  feat- 
ures and  sunken  eye  told  of  intense  mental 
labor. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  buildings  now  in 
the  course  of  erection  is  the  Basilica,  or  Church 
of  St.  Bonifacius.  It  represents  another  form  of 
the  Byzantine  style,  a  kind  of  double  edifice,  a 
little  like  a  North  River  steamboat,  with  a  two 
story  cabin  on  deck.  The  inside  is  not  yet  fin- 
ished, although  the  artists  have  been  at  work  on 
it  for  six  years,  but  we  heard  many  accounts  of 
its  splendor,  which  is  said  to  exceed  anything 
that  has  been  yet  done  in  Munich.  AVe  visited 
to-day  the  atelier  of  Schwanthaler,  which  is  al- 
ways open  to  strangers.  The  sculptor  himself 
was  not  there,  but  five  or  six  of  his  scholars  were 
at  work  in  the  rooms,  building  up  clay  statues 
after  his  models  and  working  out  bas-reliefs  in 
frames.  We  saw  here  the  original  models  of  the 
statues  on  the  Pinacothek,  and  the  "Whittels- 
bach  Ancestors"  in  the  Throne  Hall  of  the  pal- 
ace. I  was  glad  also  to  find  a  miniature  copy  in 
plaster,  of  the  Herrmannsschlacht,  or  combat  01 
the  old  German  hero,  Herrmann,  with  the  BQ- 


A  MECHANICS  STORTT.  24? 

mans,  from  the  frieze  of  Walhalla,  at  Ratisbon. 
It  is  one  of  Schwanthaler's  best  works.  Herr- 
mann, as  the  middle  figure,  is  represented  in 
fight  with  the  Roman  general;  behind  him  the 
warriors  are  rushing  on,  and  an  old  bard  is  strik- 
ing the  chords  of  his  harp  to  inspire  them,  while 
women  bind  up  the  wounds  of  the  fallen.  The 
Roman  soldiers  on  the  other  side  are  about 
turning  in  confusion  to  fly.  It  is  a  lofty  and  ap- 
propriate subject  for  the  portico  of  a  building 
containing  the  figures  of  the  men  who  have  la- 
bored for  the  glory  and  elevation  of  their  Fath- 
erland. 

Our  new-found  friend  came  to  visit  us  last 
evening  and  learn  our  impressions  of  Munich. 
In  the  course  of  conversation  we  surprised  him 
by  revealing  the  name  of  our  country.  His 
countenance  brightened  up  and  he  asked  us 
many  questions  about  the  state  of  society  in 
America.  In  return,  he  told  us  something  more 
about  himself— his  story  was  simple,  but  it  in- 
terested me.  His  father  was  a  merchant,  who, 
having  been  ruined  by  unlucky  transactions, 
died,  leaving  a  numerous  family  without  the 
means  of  support.  His  children  were  obliged  to 
commence  life  alone  and  unaided,  which,  in  a 
country  where  labor  is  so  cheap,  is  difficult  and 
disheartening.  Our  friend  chose  the  profession 
of  a  machinist,  which,  after  encountering  great 
obstacles,  he  succeeded  in  learning,  and  now 
supports  himself  as  a  common  laborer.  But  his 
position,  in  this  respect,  prevents  him  from 
occupying  that  station  in  society  for  which  he 
is  intellectually  fitted.  His  own  words,  uttered 
with  a  simple  pathos  which  I  can  never  forget, 
will  best  describe  how  painful  this  must  be  to  a 
sensitive  spirit.  "I  tell  you  thus  frankly  my 
feelings,"  said  he,  ''because  I  know  you  will 
understand  me.  I  could  not  say  this  to  any  of 
my  associates,  for  they  would  not  comprehend 
it,  and  they  would  say  I  am  proud,  because  J 


248  VIRWS  A- FOOT. 

cannot  bring  my  soul  down  to  their  level.  I  am 
poor  and  have  but  little  to  subsist  upon ;  but 
the  spirit  has  needs  as  well  as  the  body,  and  I 
feel  it  a  duty  and  a  desire  to  satisfy  them  also. 
When  I  am  with  any  of  my  common  fellow- 
laborers,  what  do  I  gain  from  them?  Their 
leisure  hours  are  spent  in  drinking  and  idle 
amusement,  and  I  cannot  join  them,  for  I  have 
no  sympathy  with  such  things.  To  mingle  with 
those  above  me  would  be  impossible.  Therefore 
I  am  alone — I  have  no  associate! " 

I  have  gone  into  minute,  and  it  may  be,  tire- 
some detail,  in  describing  some  of  the  edifices  of 
Munich,  because  it  seemed  the  only  way  in  which 
I  could  give  an  idea  of  their  wonderful  beauty. 
It  is  true  that  in  copying  after  the  manner  of 
the  daguerreotype,  there  is  danger  of  imitating 
its  dullness  also,  but  I  trust  to  the  glitter  of 
gold  and  rich  paintings,  for  a  little  brightness 
in  the  picture.  We  leave  to-morrow  morning, 
having  received  the  sum  written  for,  which,  to 
our  surprise,  will  be  barely  sufficient  to  enable 
us  to  reach  Heidelberg. 


CHAPTER  XXYH. 

THROUGH  WURTEMBERG  TO  HEIDELBERG. 

We  left  Munich  in  the  morning  train  for  Augs- 
burg. Between  the  two  cities  extends  a  vast  un- 
broken plain,  exceedingly  barren  and  monoto- 
nous. Here  and  there  is  a  little  scrubby  wood- 
land, and  sometimes  we  passed  over  a  muddy 
stream  which  came  down  from  the  Alps.  The 
land  is  not  more  than  half-cultivated,  and  the 
villages  are  small  and  poor.  We  saw  manv  of 
the  peasants  at  their  stations,  in  their  gay  Sun- 


AUGSBURG.  249 

day  dresses ;  the  women  wore  short  gowns  with 
laced  boddices,  of  gay  colors,  and  little  caps  on 
the  top  of  their  heads,  with  streamers  of  ribbons 
three  feet  long.  After  two  hours'  ride,  we  saw 
the  tall  towers  of  Augsburg,  and  alighted  on  the 
outside  of  the  wall.  The  deep  moat  which  sur- 
rounds the  city,  is  all  grown  over  with  velvet 
turf,  the  towers  and  bastions  are  empty  and 
desolate,  and  we  passed  unchallenged  under  the 
gloomy  archway.  Immediately  on  entering  the 
city,  signs  of  its  ancient  splendor  are  apparent. 
The  houses  are  old,  many  of  them  with  quaint, 
elaborately  carved  ornaments,  and  often  cov- 
ered with  fresco  paintings.  These  generally  rep- 
resent some  scene  from  the  Bible  history,  en- 
circled with  arabesque  borders,  and  pious  max- 
ims in  illuminated  scrolls.  We  went  into  the  old 
Rathhaus,  whose  golden  hall  still  speaks  of  the 
days  of  Augsburg's  pride.  I  saw  in  the  base- 
ment a  bronze  eagle,  weighing  sixteen  tons,  with 
an  inscription  on  the  pedestal  stating  that  it 
was  cast  in  1606,  and  formerly  stood  on  the  top 
of  an  old  public  building,  since  torn  down. 
In  front  of  the  Rathhaus  is  a  fine  bronze  fount- 
ain, with  a  number  of  figures  of  angels  and  tri- 
tons. 

The  same  afternoon,  we  left  Augsburg  for  Ulm. 
Long,  low  ranges  of  hills,  running  from  the  Dan- 
ube, stretched  far  across  the  country,  and  be- 
tween them  lay  many  rich,  green  valleys.  We 
passed,  occasionally,  large  villages,  perhaps  as 
old  as  the  times  of  the  crusaders,  and  looking 
quite  pastoral  and  romantic  from  the  outside; 
but  we  were  always  glad  when  we  had  gone 
through  them  and  into  the  clean  country  again. 
The  afternoon  of  the  second  day  we  came  in 
sight  of  the  fertile  plain  of  the  Danube;  far,  far 
to  the  right  lay  the  field  of  Blenheim,  where 
]\ I arl borough  and  the  Prince  Eugene  conquered 
the  united  French  and  Bavarian  forces  and  de- 
cided the  war  of  the  Spanish  succession. 


>50  VIEWS   A- FOOT. 

Wo  determined  to  reach  Ulm  the  sameevening, 
although  a  heavy  storm  was  raging  along  the 
distiint  hills  of  Wurtoinborg.  The  dark  masn 
of  the  mighty  Cathedral  rose  in  the  distance 
through  the  twilight,  a  perfect  mountain  in  com- 
parison with  the  little  houses  clustered  around 
its  base.  We  reached  New  Ulm,  finally,  and 
passed  over  the  heavy  wooden  bridge  into  Wur- 
temberg,  unchallenged  for  passport  or  baggage. 
I  thought  I  could  feel  a  difference  in  the  atmos- 
phere when  1  reached  the  other  side — it  breathed 
of  the  freer  spirit  that  ruled  through  the  land. 
The  Danube  is  here  a  little  muddy  stream, 
hardly  as  large  as  my  native  Brandy  wine,  and  a 
traveller  who  sees  it  at  Ulm  for  the  first  time 
would  most  probably  be  disappointed.  It  is  not 
until  below  Vienna,  where  it  receives  the  Drave 
and  Save,  that  it  becomes  a  river  of  more  than 
ordinary  magnitude. 

We  entered  Ulm,  as  I  have  already  said.  It 
was  after  nine  o'clock,  nearly  dark,  and  begin, 
ning  to  rain ;  wre  had  walked  thirty-three  miles, 
and  being  of  course  tired,  we  entered  the  first 
inn  we  saw.  But,  to  our  consternation,  it  was 
impossible  to  get  a  place — the  fair  had  just  com- 
menced,  and  the  inn  was  full  to  the  roof.  We 
must  needs  hunt  another,  and  then  another,  and 
yet  another,  with  like  fate  at  each.  It  grew 
quite  dark,  the  rain  increased,  and  we  were  un- 
acquainted with  the  city.  I  grew  desperate,  and 
at  last,  when  we  had  stopped  at  the  eighth  inn  in 
vain,  I  told  the  people  we  must  have  lodgings, 
for  it  was  impossible  wre  should  walk  around  in 
the  rain  all  night.  Some  of  the  guests  interfer- 
ing in  our  favor,  the  hostess  finally  sent  a  serv- 
ant with  us  to  the  first  hotel  in  the  city.  I  told 
him  on  the  wray  we  were  Americans,  strangers  in 
Ulm,  and  not  accustomed  to  sleeping  in  the 
streets.  "Well,"  said  he,  "I  will  go  before,  and 
recommend  you  to  the  landlord  of  the  Golden 
Wheel."  I  knew  not  what  magic  he  used,  but  ia 


CATHE&flAL  AT  ULM.  25) 

half  an  hour  our  weary  limbs  were  stretched  in 
delightful  repose  and  we  thanked  Heaven  more 
gratefully  than  ever  before,  for  the  blessing  of  a 
good  bed. 

Next  morning  we  ran  about  through  the 
booths  of  the  fair,  and  gazed  up  from  all  sides 
at  the  vast  Cathedral.  The  style  is  the  simplest 
and  grandest  Gothic ;  but  the  tower,  which,  to 
harmonize  with  the  body  of  the  church,  should 
be  520  feet  high,  was  left  unfinished  at  the  height 
of  234  feet.  I  could  not  enough  admire  the 
grandeur  of  proportion  in  the  great  building. 
It  seemed  singular  that  the  little  race  of  ani- 
mals who  swarmed  around  its  base,  should  have 
the  power  to  conceive  or  execute  such  a  gigantic 
work. 

There  is  an  immense  fortification  now  in  pro- 
gress  of  erection  behind  Ulm.  It  leans  on  the 
side  of  the  hill  which  rises  from  the  Danube,  and 
must  be  nearly  a  mile  in  length.  Hundreds  ol 
laborers  are  at  work,  and  from  the  appearance 
of  the  foundations,  many  years  will  be  required 
to  finish  it.  The  lofty  mountain-plain  which  we 
afterwards  passed  over,  for  eight  or  ten  miles, 
divides  the  waters  of  the  Danube  from  the  Rhine. 
From  the  heights  above  Ulm,  we  bade  adieu  to 
the  far,  misty  Alps,  till  we  shall  see  them  again 
in  Switzerland.  Late  in  the  afternoon,  we  came 
to  a  lovely  green  valley  sunk  as  it  were  in  the 
earth.  Around  us,  on  all  sides,  stretched  the 
bare,  lofty  plains ;  but  the  valley  lay  below,  its 
steep  sides  covered  with  the  richest  forest.  At 
the  bottom  flowed  the  Fils.  Our  road  led  di- 
rectly down  the  side;  the  glen  spread  out  broader 
as  we  advanced,  and  smiling  villages  stood  be- 
side the  stream.  A  short  distance  before  reach- 
ing Esslingen,  we  came  upon  the  banks  of  the 
Neckar,  whom  we  hailed  as  an  old  acquaintance, 
although  much  smaller  here  in  his  mountain 
home  than  when  lie  sweeps  the  walls  of  Heidel* 
berg. 


252  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

Delightful  Wurtemberg !  Shall  I  ever  forget  thy 
lovely  green  vales,  watered  by  the  classic  current 
of  the  Decker,  or  thy  lofty  hills  covered  with 
vineyards  and  waving  forests,  and  crowned  with 
heavy  ruins,  that  tell  many  a  taleofBarbarossa 
and  Duke  Ulric  and  Goetz  with  the  Iron  Hand ! 
No — were  even  the  Suabian  hills  less  beautiful — 
were  the  Suabian  people  less  faithful  and  kind 
and  true,  still  I  would  love  the  land  for  the  great 
spirits  it  has  produced;  still  would  the  birth- 
place of  Frederick  Schiller,  of  Uhland  and  Hauff, 
be  sacred.  I  do  not  wonder  Wurtemberg  can 
boast  suchglorious  poets.  Its  lovely  landscapes 
seem  to  have  been  made  expressly  for  the  cradle 
of  genius ;  amid  no  other  scenes  could  his  infant 
mind  catch  a  more  benign  inspiration.  Even 
the  common  people  are  deeply  imbued  with  a 
poetic  feeling.  We  saw  it  in  their  friendly  gr<  •<  -t- 
mgs  and  open,  expressive  countenances;  it  is 
shown  in  their  love  for  their  beautml  homes  and 
the  rapture  and  reverence  with  which  they  speak 
of  their  country's  bards.  No  river  in  the  world, 
equal  to  the  Neckar  in  size,  flows  for  its  whole 
course  through  more  delightful  scenery,  or 
among  kinder  and  happier  people. 

After  leaving  Esslingen,  we  followed  its  banks 
for  some  time,  at  the  foot  of  an  amphitheatre  of 
hills,  covered  to  the  very  summit,  as  far  as  the 
eye  could  reach,  with  vineyards.  The  morning 
was  cloudy,  and  white  mist-wreaths  hung  along 
the  sides.  We  took  a  road  that  led  over  the  top 
of  a  range,  and  on  arriving  at  the  summit,  saw 
all  at  once  the  city  of  Stuttgard,  lying  beneath 
our  feet.  It  lay  in  a  basin  encircled  by  mount- 
ains, with  a  narrow7  valley  opening  to  the 
south-east,  and  running  off  between  the  hills  to 
the  Neckar.  The  situation  of  the  city  is  one  of 
wonderful  beauty,  and  even  after  seeing  Salz- 
burg, I  could  not  but  be  charmed  with  it. 

Wo  descended  the  mountain  and  entered  it.  I 
inquired  immediately  for  the  monument  of 


KAINT  TRA  YELLING.  353 

Schiller,  for  there  was  nttle  else  in  the  city  1 
cared  to  see.  We  had  become  tired  of  run- 
ning about  cities,  hunting  this  or  that  old 
church  or  palace,  which  perhaps  was  nothing 
when  found.  Stuttgard  has  neither  galleries, 
ruins,  nor  splendid  buildings,  to  interest  the 
traveller ;  but  it  has  Thorwalclsen's  statue  of 
Schiller,  calling  up  at  the  same  time  its  shame 
and  its  glory.  For  the  poet  in  his  youth  was 
obliged  to  fly  from  this  very  same  city — from 
home  and  friends,  to  escape  the  persecution  of 
the  government  on  account  of  the  free  senti- 
ments expressed  in  his  early  works.  We  found 
the  statue,  without  much  difficulty.  It  stands 
in  the  Schloss  Platz,  at  the  southern  end  of  the 
city,  in  an  unfavorable  situation,  surrounded  by 
dark  old  buildings.  It  should  rather  be  placed 
aloft  on  a  mountain  summit,  in  the  pure,  free 
air  of  heaven,  braving  the  storm  and  tke  tem- 
pest. The  figure  is  fourteen  feet  high  and  stands 
on  a  pedestal  of  bronze,  with  bas-reliefs  on  the 
four  sides.  The  head,  crowned  with  a  laurel 
wreath,  is  inclined  as  if  in  deep  thought,  and  all 
the  earnest  soul  is  seen  in  the  countenance. 
Thorwaldsen  has  copied  so  truly  the  expression 
of  poetic  reverie,  that  I  waited,  half-expecting 
he  would  raise  his  head  and  look  around  him. 

As  we  passed  out  the  eastern  gate,  the  work- 
men were  busy  near  the  city,  making  an  em- 
bankment for  the  new  railroad  to  Heilbroun, 
and  we  were  obliged  to  wade  through  half  a 
mile  of  mud.  Finally  the  road  turned  to  the 
left  over  a  mountain,  and  we  walked  on  in  tho 
rain,  regardless  of  the  touching  entreaties  of  an 
omnibus-driver,  who  felt  a  great  concern  for 
our  health,  especially  as  he  had  two  empty 
seats.  There  is  a  peculiarly  agreeable  sensation 
in  walking  in  a  storm,  when  the  winds  sweep  by 
and  the  rain-drops  rattle  through  the  trees,  and 
the  dark  clouds  roll  past  just  above  one's  head. 
It  gives  a  dash  of  sublimity  to  the  most  com- 


254  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

mon  scene.  If  the  rain  did  not  finally  soak 
through  the  boots,  and  if  one  did  not  lose  every 
romantic  feeling  in  wet  garments,  I  would  pre- 
fer storm  to  sunshine,  for  visiting  some  kinds  oi 
scenery.  You  remember,  we  saw  the  North 
Coast*  of  Ireland  and  the  Giant's  Causeway  in 
stormy  weather,  at  the  expense  of  being  com- 
pletely  drenched,  it  is  true;  but  our  recollections 
of  that  wild  day's  journey  are  as  vivid  as  any 
event  of  our  lives — and  the  name  of  the  Giant's 
Causeway  calls  up  a  series  of  pictures  as  terribly 
sublime  as  any  we  would  wish  to  behold. 

The  rain  at  last  did  come  down  a  little  too 
hard  for  comfort,  and  we  were  quite  willing  to 
take  shelter  when  we  reached  Ludwigsburg. 
This  is  here  called  a  new  city,  having  been  laid 
out  with  broad  streets  and  spacious  squares, 
about  a  century  ago,  and  is  now  about  the  size 
of  our  five-year  old  city  of  Milwaukee !  It  is  the 
chief  military  station  of  Wurtemberg,  and  hns  n 
splendid  castle  and  gardens,  belonging  to  the 
king.  A  few  miles  to  the  eastward  is  the  little 
village  where  Schiller  was  born.  It  is  said  the 
house  where  his  parents  lived  is  still  standing. 

Ib  was  not  the  weather  alone,  which  prevented 
our  making  a  pilgrimage  to  it,  nor  was  it  alone 
a  peculiar  fondness  for  rain  which  induced  us  to 
persist  in  walking  in  the  storm.  Our  feeble 
pockets,  if  they  could  have  raised  an  audible 
jingle,  would  have  told  another  tale.  Our 
scanty  allowance  was  dwindling  rapidly  away, 
in  spite  of  a  desperate  system  of  economy.  We 
left  Ulm  with  a  florin  and  a  half  apiece — about 
sixty  cents — to  walk  to  Heibelberg,  a  distance 
of  110  miles.  It  was  the  evening  of  the  third 
day,  and  this  was  almost  exhausted.  As  soon 
therefore  as  the  rain  slackened  a  little,  we 
started  again,  although  the  roads  were  very 
bad.  At  Betigheim,  where  we  passed  the  night, 
the  people  told  us  of  a  much  nearer  and  more 
beautiful  road,  passing  through  the  Zabergau, 


THE  ZEBERGA  U  REGION.  255 

a  region  famed  for  its  fertility  and  pastoral 
beauty.  At  the  inn  we  were  charged  higher  than 
usual  for  a  bed,  so  that  we  had  but  thirteen 
kreutzers  to  start  with  in  the  morning.  Our 
fare  that  day  was  a  little  bread  and  water;  we 
walked  steadily  on,  but  owing  to  the  wet  roads, 
made  only  thirty  miles. 

A  more  delightful  region  than  the  Zabergau  I 
have  seldom  passed  through.  The  fields  were 
full  of  rich,  heavy  grain,  and  the  trees  had  a  lux- 
uriance of  foliage  that  reminded  me  of  the  vale 
of  the  Jed,  in  Scotland.  Without  a  single  hedge 
or  fence,  stood  the  long  sweep  of  hills,  covered 
with  waving  fields  of  grain,  except  where  they 
were  steep  and  rocky,  and  the  vineyard  terraces 
rose  one  above  another.  Sometimes  a  fine  old 
forest  grew  along  the  summit,  like  a  mane  wav- 
ing back  from  the  curved  neck  of  a  steed,  and 
white  villages  lay  coiled  in  the  valleys  between. 
A  line  of  blue  mountains  always  closed  the  vista, 
on  looking  down  one  of  these  long  valleys ;  oc- 
casionally a  ruined  castle  with  donjon  tower, 
was  seen  on  a  mountain  at  the  side,  making 
the  picture  complete.  As  we  lay  sometimes  on 
the  hillside  and  looked  on  one  of  those  sweet 
vales,  we  were  astonished  at  its  Arcadian 
beauty.  The  meadows  were  as  smooth  as  a 
mirror,  and  there  seemed  to  be  scarcely  a  grass- 
blade  out  of  place.  The  streams  wound  through 
{"snaked  themselves  through,"  is  the  German 
expression,)  with  a  subdued  ripple,  as  if  they 
feared  to  displace  a  pebble,  and  the  great  ash 
trees  which  stood  here  and  there,  had  lined  each 
of  their  leaves  as  carefully  with  silver  .and 
turned  them  as  gracefully  to  the  wind,  as  if  they 
were  making  their  toilets  for  the  gala-day  of 
nature. 

That  evening  brought  us  into  the  dominions 
of  Baden,  within  five  hours'  walk  of  Heidelberg. 
At  the  humblest  inn  in  an  humble  village,  we 
found  a  bed  which  we  could  barely  pay  for, 


256  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

leaving  a  kreutzer  or  two  for  breakfast.  Soon 
after  starting  the  next  morning,  the  distant 
Kaiserstuhl  suddenly  emerged  from  the  mist, 
with  the  high  tower  on  its  summit,  where  nearly 
ten  months  before,  we  sat  and  looked  at  the 
summits  of  the  Vosges  in  France,  with  all  the 
excitement  one  feels  on  entering  a  foreign  land. 
Now,  the  scenery  around  that  same  Kaiserstuhl 
was  nearly  as  familiar  to  us  as  that  of  our  own 
homes.  Entering  the  hills  again,  we  knew  by 
the  blue  mountains  of  the  Odenwald,  that  we 
were  approaching  the  Neckar.  At  length  we 
reached  the  last  height.  The  town  of  Neckar- 
gemund  lay  before  us  on  the  steep  hillside,  and 
the  mountains  on  either  side  were  scarred  with 
quarries  of  the  rich  red  sandstone,  so  much  used 
in  building.  The  blocks  are  hewn  out,  high  up 
on  the  mountain  side,  and  then  sent  rolling 
and  sliding  dowrn  to  the  river,  where  they  are 
laden  in  boats  and  floated  down  with  the  cur- 
rent to  the  distant  cities  of  the  Rhine. 

We  were  rejoiced  on  turning  around  the  cor- 
ner of  a  mountain,  to  see  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  river,  the  road  winding  up  through  the  for- 
ests, where  last  fall  our  Heidelberg  friends 
accompanied  us,  as  we  set  out  to  walk  to  Frank- 
fort, through  the  Odenwald.  Many  causes  com- 
bined to  render  it  a  glad  scene  to  us.  We  were  going 
to  meet  our  comrade  again,  after  a  separation 
of  months;  we  were  bringing  an  eventful  journey 
to  its  close;  and  finally,  wre  were  weak  and  worn 
out  from  fasting  and  the  labor  of  walking  in  the 
rain.  A  little  further  we  saw  Kloster  Neuburg, 
formerly  an  old  convent,  and  remembered  how 
we  used  to  look  at  it  every  day  from  the  win- 
dows of  our  room  on  the  Neckar;  but  we 
shouted  aloud,  when  we  saw  at  last  the  well- 
known  bridge  spanning  the  river,  and  the  glor- 
ious old  castle  lifting  its  shattered  towers  from 
the  side  of  the  mountain  above  us.  I  always 
felt  a  strong  attachment  to  this  matchless  ruin. 


BURIAL  BT  TORCHLIGHT. 

and  as  I  beheld  it  again,  with  the  warm 
shine  falling  through  each  broken  arch,  the  wild 
ivj  draping  its  desolate  chambers,  it  seemed  to 
smile  on  me  like  the  face  of  a  friend,  and  I  con- 
fessed I  had  seen  many  a  grander  scene,  but  few 
that  would  cling  to  the  memory  so  familiarly. 

While  we  were  in  Heidelberg,  a  student  was 
buried  by  torchlight.  This  is  done  when  partic- 
ular honor  is  shown  to  the  memory  of  the 
departed  brother.  They  assembled  at  dark  in 
the  University  Square,  each  with  a  blazing  pine 
torch  three  feet  long,  and  formed  into  a  double 
line.  Between  the  files  walked  at  short  dis- 
tances an  officer,  who,  with  his  sword,  broad 
lace  collar,  and  the  black  and  white  plumes  in 
his  cap,  looked  like  a  cavalier  of  the  olden  time. 
Persons  with  torches  walked  on  each  side  of  the 
hearse,  and  the  band  played  a  lament  so  deeply 
mournful,  that  the  scene,  notwithstanding  its 
singularity,  was  very  sad  and  touching^.  The 
thick  smoke  from  the  torches  filled  the  air,  and 
a  lurid,  red  light  was  caTb  over  the  hushed 
crowds  in  the  streets  and  streamed  into  the 
dark  alleys.  The  Hauptstrasse  was  filled  with 
two  lines  of  flame,  as  the  procession  passed 
down  it ;  when  they  reached  the  extremity  of  the 
city,  the  hearse  went  on,  attended  with  toich- 
bearers,  to  the  Cemetery,  some  distance  further, 
and  the  students  turned  back,  running  and 
whirling  their  torches  in  mingled  confusion. 
The  music  struck  up  a  merry  march,  and  in  the 
smoke  and  red  glare,  they  looked  like  a  com- 
pany of  mad  demons.  The  presence  of  death 
mvod  them  to  silence  for  awhile,  but  as  soon  as 
it  had  left  them,  they  turned  relieved  to  revel 
again  and  thought  no  more  of  the  lesson.  It 
g;>  ve  me  a  painful  feeling  to  see  them  rushing  so 
wildly  and  disorderly  back.  They  assembled 
again  in  the  square,  and  tossing  their  torches 
up  into  the  air  cast  them  blazing  into  a  pile; 
while  the  flame  and  black  smoke  rose  in  ; 


•2.-.S  VIEWS   A-FOOT. 

unm  into  the  air,  they  sang  in  solemn  chorus, 
the  song  "Gaudeiunns  igitur,"  with  which  they 

dose  all  public  assemblies. 

I  shall  neglect  telling  how  we  left  Heidelberg, 
and  walked  along  the  Sergstrasse  again,  for  the 
sixth  time;  how  we  passed  the  old  MeUbochofl 
and  through  the  quiet  city  of  Darmstadt :  how 
we  watched  the  blue  summits  of  the  Tauims  ris- 
ing higher  and  higher  over  the  plain,  as  a  new 
land  rises  from  the  sea,  and  finally,  how  we 
reached  at  last  the  old  watch-tower  and  looked 
down  on  the  valley  of  the  Main,  clothed  in  the 
bloom  and  verdure  of  summer,  with  the  houses 
and  spires  of  Frankfort  in  the  middle  of  the  well- 
known  panorama.  We  again  took  possession 
of  our  old  rooms,  and  having  to  wait  for  a 
remittance  from  America,  as  well  as  a  more 
suitable  season  for  visiting  Italy,  we  sat  down 
to  a  month's  rest  and  study. 


CHAPTER  III. 

FREIBURG  AND  THE  BLACK  FOREST. 

Frankfort ,  July  L>!),  7N-/J— It  would  b<«  ingrat- 
itude towards  the  old  city  in  \vhichlhave  passed 
so  many  pleasant  and  profitable  hours,  to  leave 
it,  perhaps  forever,  without  a  few  words  of  fare- 
well. How  often  will  the  old  bridge  with  its 
view  up  the  Main,  over  the  houses  of  Oberrad  to 
the  far  mountains  of  the  Odenwald,  rise  freshly 
:ind  distinctly  in  memory,  when  I  shall  have 
been  long  absent  from  them!  How  often  will  I 
hear  in  fancy  as  I  now  do  in  reality,  the  heavy 
t  t-i-ad  of  passers-by,  on  the  rough  pavement  be- 
'low,  and  the  deep  bell  of  the  Cathedral,  chiming 
the  swift  hours,  with  a  hollow  tone  that  seems 


THE  BLACK  FOREST.  259 

to  warn  me,  rightly  to  employ  them !  Even  this 
old  room,  with  its  bare  walls,  little  table  and 
chairs,  which  I  have  thought  and  studied  in  so 
long,  that  it  seems  difficult  to  think  and  study 
anywhere  else,  will  crowd  out  of  memory  images 
of  many  a  loftier  scene.  May  I  but  preserve 
for  the  future  the  hope  and  trust  which  have 
cheered  and  sustained  me  here,  through  the  sor- 
row of  absence  and  the  anxiety  of  uncertain  toil! 
It  is  growing  towards  midnight,  and  I  think  of 
many  a  night  when  I  sat  here  at  this  hour,  an- 
swering the  spirit-greeting  which  friends  sent  me 
at  sunset  over  the  sea.  All  this  has  now  an  end. 
I  must  begin  a  new  wandering,  and  perhaps  in 
ten  days  more  I  shall  have  a  better  place  for 
thought,  among  the  mountain  chambers  of  the 
everlasting  Alps.  I  look  forward  to  the  journey 
with  romantic,  enthusiastic  anticipation,  for 
afar  in  the  silvery  distance,  stand  the  Coliseum 
and  St.  Peter's,  Vesuvius  and  the  lovely  Naples. 
Farewell,  friends  who  have  BO  long  given  us  a 
home! 

Aug.  9. — The  airy,  basket-work  tower  of  the 
Freiburg  Minster  rises  before  me  over  the  black 
roofs  of  the  houses,  and  behind  stand  the  gloomy, 
pine-covered  mountains  of  the  Black  Forest. 
Of  our  walk  to  Heidelberg  over  the  oft-trodden 
Bergstrasse,  I  shall  say  nothing,  nor  how  we 
climbed  the  Kaiserstuhl  again,  and  danced 
around  on  the  top  of  the  tower  for  one  hour, 
amid  cloud  and  mist,  while  there  was  sunshine 
below  in  the  valley  of  the  Neckar.  I  left  Heidel- 
berg yesterday  morning  in  the  stehwagen  for 
Carlsruhe.  The  engine  whistled,  the  train 
started,  and  although  I  kept  my  eyes  steadily 
fixed  on  the  spire  of  the  Hanptkirche,  three  min- 
utes hid  it,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  city  from  sight. 
Carlsruhe,  the  capital  of  Baden,  which  we  reached 
in  an  hour  and  a  half,  is  unanimously  pro- 
nounced by  travellers  to  be  a  most  dull  and  tire- 
some city.  From  a  glance  I  had  through  one 


260  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

of  the  gates,  I  should  think  its  reputation  waa 
not  undeserved.  Even  its  name,  in  German,  sig- 
nifies a  place  of  repose. 

I  stopped  at  Kork,  on  the  branch  road  leading 
to  Strasbourg,  to  meet  a  German-American 
about  to  return  to  my  home  in  Pennsylvania, 
where  he  had  lived  for  some  time.  I  inquired 
according  to  the  direction  he  had  sent  me  to 
Frankfort,  but  he  was  not  there;  however,  an 
old  man,  finding  who  I  was,  said  Herr  Otto  had 
directed  him  to  go  with  me  to  Hesselhurst,  a 
village  four  or  five  miles  off,  where  he  would 
meet  me.  So  we  set  off  immediately  over  the 
plain  and  reached  the  village  at  dusk. 

At  the  little  inn  were  several  of  the  farmers  of 
the  neighborhood,  who  seemed  to  consider  it 
as  something  extraordinary  to  see  a  real,  live, 
native-born  American.  They  overwhelmed  me 
with  questions  about  the  state  of  our  country, 
its  government,  etc.  The  hostess  brought  me  a 
supper  of  fried  eggs  and  wurst,  while  they  gath- 
ered around  the  table  and  began  a  real  category 
in  the  dialect  of  the  country,  which  is  difficult  to 
understand.  I  gave  them  the  best  information 
I  could  about  our  mode  of  farming,  the  different 
kinds  of  produce  raised,  and  the  prices  paid  to 
laborers ;  one  honest  old  man  cried  out,  on  my 
saying  I  had  worked  on  a  farm,  "Ah I  little 
brother,  give  me  your  hand ! "  which,  he  shook 
most  heartily.  I  told  them  also  something 
about  our  government  and  the  militia  nystem, 
so  different  from  the  conscription  of  Europe, 
when  a  farmer  becoming  quite  warm  in  our 
favor,  said  to  the  others  with  an  air  of  the  great- 
est decision:  "One  American  is  better  than 
twenty  Germans ! "  What  particularly  amused 
me,  was,  that  although  I  spoke  German  with 
them,  they  seemed  to  think  I  did  not  understand 
what  they  said  among  one  another,  and  there- 
fore commented  very  freely  over  my  appearance 
I  suppose  they  had  the  idea  that  we  were  a  rude, 


FREIBURG.  261 

savage  race,  for  I  overheard  one  say:  "One 
sees,  nevertheless,  that  he  has  been  educated ! " 
Their  honest,  unsophisticated  mode  of  expression 
was  very  interesting  to  me,  and  we  talked  to- 
gether till  a  late  hour. 

My  friend  arrived  at  three  o'clock  the  next 
morning,  and  after  two  or  three  hours'  talk 
about  home,  and  the  friends  whom  hr  expected 
to  see  so  much  sooner  than  I,  _<,  young 
farmer  drove  me  in  his  wagon  to  Offenburg, 
a  small  city  at  the  foot  of  the  Black  Forest, 
where  I  took  the  cars  for  Freiburg.  The 
scenery  between  the  two  places  is  grand.  The 
broad  mountains  of  the  Black  Forest  rear  their 
fronts  on  the  east,  and  the  blue  lines  of  the 
French  Yosges  meet  the  clouds  on  the  west. 
The  night  before,  in  walking  over  the  plain,  I 
saw  distinctly  the  whole  of  the  Strasbourg  Min- 
ster, whose  spire  is  the  highest  in  Europe,  being 
four  hundred  and  ninety  feet,  or  but  twenty-five 
feet  lower  than  the  Pyramid  of  Cheops. 

I  visited  the  Minster  of  Freiburg  yesterday 
morning.  It  is  a  grand,  gloomy  old  pile,  dating 
from  the  eleventh  century — one  of  the  few 
Gothic  churches  in  Germany  that  have  ever 
been  completed.  The  tower  of  beautiful  fret- 
work rises  to  the  height  of  three  hundred  and 
ninety-five  feet,  and  the  body  of  the  church,  in- 
eluding  the  choir,  is  of  the  same  length.  The 
interior  is  solemn  and  majestic.  Windows 
stained  in  colors  that  burn,  let  in  a  "dim,  re- 
ligious light"  which  accords  very  well  with  the 
dark  old  pillars  and  antique  shrines.  In  two  of 
the  chapels  there  are  some  fine  altar-pieces  by 
Holbein  and  one  of  his  scholars;  and  a  very 
large  crucifix  of  silver  and  ebony,  which  is  kept 
with  great  care,  is  said  to  have  been  carried  with 
the  Crusaders  to  the  Holy  Land.  This  morning 
was  the  great  market-day,  and  the  peasantry  of 
the  Black  Forest  came  down  from  the  mount- 
ains to  dispose  of  their  produce.  The  square 


262  VIEWS  A -FOOT. 

around  the  Minster  was  filled  with  them,  and  th« 
singular  costume  of  the  women  gave  the  scene 
quite  a  strange  appearance.  Many  of  them 
wore  bright  red  head-dresses  and  shawls,  others 
had  high-crowned  hats  of  yellow  oil-cloth ;  the 
young  girls  wore  their  hair  in  long  plaits,  reach- 
ing nearly  to  their  feet.  They  brought  grain, 
butter  and  cheese,  and  a  great  deal  of  fine  fruit 
to  sell — I  bought  some  of  the  wild,  aromatic 
plums  of  the  country,  at  the  rate  of  thirty  for  a 
cent. 

The  railroad  has  only  been  open  to  Freiburg 
within  a  few  days,  and  is  consequently  an  object 
of  great  curiosity  to  the  peasants,  many  of 
whom  never  saw  the  like  before.  They  throng 
around  the  station  at  the  departure  of  the  train 
and  watch  with  great  interest  the  operations  of 
getting  up  the  steam  and  starting.  One  of  the 
scenes  that  grated  most  harshly  on  my  feelings, 
was  seeing  yesterday  a  company  of  women  em- 
ployed on  an  unfinished  part  of  the  road.  They 
were  digging  and  shoveling  away  in  the  rain, 
nearly  up  to  their  knees  in  mud  and  clay ! 

I  called  at  the  Institute  for  the  Blind,  under 
the  direction  of  Mr.  Miiller.  He  showed  me 
some  beautiful  basket  and  woven  work  by  his 
pupils ;  the  accuracy  and  skill  with  which  every 
thing  was  made  astonished  me.  They  read  with 
amazing  facility  from  the  raised  type,  and  by 
means  of  frames  are  taught  to  write  with  ease 
and  distinctness.  In  music,  that  great  solace  of 
the  blind,  they  most  excelled.  They  sang  with 
an  expression  so  true  and  touching  that  it  was 
a  delight  to  listen.  The  system  of  instruction 
adopted  appears  to  be  most  excellent,  and  gives 
to  the  blind  nearly  every  advantage  which  their 
more  fortunate  brethren  enjoy. 

I  am  indebted  to  Mr.  Miiller,  to  whom  I  was 
introduced  by  an  acquaintance  with  his  friend, 
Dr.  Rivinus,  of  West  Chester,  Pa.,  for  many 
kind  attentions.  He  went  with  us  this  afternoon 


THE  STUDENTS.  863 

to  the  Jagerhaus,  on  a  mountain  near,  where  we 
had  a  very  fine  view  of  the  city  and  its  great 
black  Minster,  with  the  plain  of  the  Briesgau, 
broken  only  by  the  Kaiserstuhl,  a  long  mount- 
ain near  the  Rhine,  whose  golden  stream  glit- 
tered in  the  distance.  On  climbing  the  Schloss- 
berg,  an  eminence  near  th^  city,  we  met  the 
Grand  Duchess  Stephanie,  a  natural  daughter 
of  Napoleon,  as  I  have  hoard,  and  now  generally 
believed  to  be  the  mother  of  Caspar  Hauser. 
Through  a  work  lately  published,  which  has 
since  been  suppressed,  the  whole  history  has 
come  to  light.  Caspar  Hauser  was  the  lineal  de- 
scendant of  the  house  of  Baden,  and  heir  to  the 
throne,  The  guilt  of  his  imprisonment  and  mur- 
der rests,  therefore,  upon  the  present  reigning 
family. 

A  chapel  on  the  Schonberg,  the  mountain  or> 
pusite,  was  pointed  out  as  the  spot  where  Louis 
XV.,  if  I  mistake  not,  usually  stood  while  his 
army  besieged  Freiburg.  A  German  officer  hav- 
ing sent  a  ball  to  this  chapel  which  struck  the 
wall  just  above  the  king's  head,  the  latter  sent 
word  that  if  they  did  not  cease  firing  he  would 
point  his  cannons  at  the  Minster.  The  citizens 
thought  it  best  to  spare  the  monarch  and  save 
the  cathedral. 

We  attended  a  meeting  of  the  Walhalla,  or  so- 
ciety of  the  students  who  visit  the  Freiburg  Uni- 
versity. They  pleased  me  better  than  the  en- 
thusiastic but  somewhat  unrestrained  Burschen- 
schaft  of  Heidelberg.  Here,  they  have  abolished 
duelling ;  the  greatest  friendship  prevails  among 
the  students,  and  they  have  not  that  contempt 
for  every  thing  philister,  or  unconnected  with 
their  studies,  which  prevails  in  other  univer- 
sities. Many  respectable  citizens  attend  their 
meetings;  to-night  there  was  a  member  of  the 
Chamber  of  Deputies  at  Carlsruhe  present,  who 
delivered  two  speeches,  in  which  every  third 
word  was  "freedom!"  An  address  was  deliv- 


set  VIE  ws  A-FO  o  r. 

ered  also  by  a  merchant  of  the  city,  in  which  he 
made  a  play  upon  the  word  spear,  which  signi- 
fies also  in  a  cant  sense,  citizen,  and  seemed  to 
indicate  that  both  would  do  their  work  in  the 
good  cause.  He  was  loudly  applauded.  Their 
song  of  union  was  by  Chai-les  Follen,  and  the 
students  were  much  pleased  when  I  told  them 
how  he  was  honored  and  esteemed  in  America. 

After  two  days,  delightfully  spent,  we  shoul- 
dered our  knapsacks  and  left  Freiburg.  The  beau- 
tiful valley,  at  the  mouth  of  which  the  city  lies, 
runs  like  an  avenue  for  seven  miles  directly 
into  the  mountains,  and  presents  in  its  loveli- 
ness such  a  contrast  to  the  horrid  defile  which 
follows,  that  it  almost  deserves  the  name  which 
has  been  given  to  a  little  inn  at  its  head — the 
"Kingdom  of  Heaven."  The  mountains  of  the 
Black  Forest  enclose  it  on  each  side  like  walls, 
covered  to  the  summit  with  luxuriant  woods, 
and  in  some  places  with  those  forests  of  gloomy 
pine  which  give  this  region  its  name.  After 
traversing  its  whole  length,  just  before  plunging 
into  the  mountain-depths,  the  traveller  rarely 
meets  with  a  finer  picture  than  that  which,  on 
looking  back,  he  sees  framed  between  the  hills  at 
the  other  end.  Freiburg  looks  around  the  foot 
of  one  of  the  heights,  with  the  spire  of  her  cathe- 
dral peeping  above  the  top,  Avhile  the  French 
Vosges  grew  dim  in  the  far  perspective. 

The  road  now  enters  a  wild,  narrow  valley, 
which  grows  smaller  as  we  proceed.  From 
Himmelriech,  a  large  rude  inn  by  the  side  of 
green  meadows,  we  enter  the  Hollenthal — that 
is,  from  the  "  Kingdom  of  Heaven"  to  the  "  Val- 
ley of  Hell!"  The  latter  place  better  deserves 
its  appellation  than  the  former.  The  road 
winds  between  precipices  of  black  rock,  above 
which  the  thick  foliage  shuts  out  the  brightness 
of  day  and  gives  a  sombie  hue  to  the  scene.  A 
torrent  foams  down  the  chasm,  and  in  one 
place  two  mighty  pillars  interpose  to  prevent 


MOUNT  FELDBERG.  26& 

all  passage.  The  stream,  however,  has  worn  its 
way  through,  and  the  road  is  hewn  in  the  rock 
by  "its  side.  This  cleft  is  the  only  entrance  to 
a  valley  three  or  four  miles  long,  which  lies  in 
the  very  heart  of  the  mountains.  It  is  inhab- 
ited by  a  few  woodmen  and  their  families,  and 
but  for  the  road  which  passes  through,  would 
be  as  perfect  a  solitude  as  the  Happy  Valley  of 
Kasselas.  At  the  farther  end,  a  winding  road 
called  "  The  Ascent,"  leads  up  the  steep  mount- 
ain to  an  elevated  region  of  country,  thinly  set- 
tled and  covered  with  herds  of  cattle.  The 
cherries  which,  in  the  Rhine-plain  below,  had 
long  gone,  were  just  ripe  here.  The  people  spoke 
a  most  barbarous  dialect;  they  were  social  and 
friendly,  for  everybody  greeted  us,  and  some- 
times, as  we  sat  on  a  bank  by  the  roadside, 
those  who  passed  by  would  say  "Rest  thee!"  or 
"Thrice  rest!" 

Passing  by  the  Titi  Lake,  a  small  body  of 
water  which  was  spread  out  among  the  hills  like 
a  sheet  of  ink,  so  deep  was  its  Stygian  hue,  we 
commenced  ascending  a  mountain.  The  highest 
peak  of  the  Schwarzwald,  the  Feldberg,  rose  not 
far  off,  and  on  arriving  at  the  top  of  this  mount- 
ain,  we  saw  that  a  half  hour's  walk  would  bring 
us  to  its  summit.  This  was  too  great  a  temp- 
tation for  my  love  of  climbing  heights ;  so  with 
a  look  at  the  descending  sun  to  calculate  how 
much  time  we  could  spare,  we  set  out.  There 
was  no  path,  but  wre  pressed  directly  up  the 
steep  side,  through  bushes  and  long  grass,  and 
in  a  short  time  reached  the  top,  breathless  from 
such  exertion  in  the  thin  atmosphere.  The  pine 
woods  shut  out  the  view  to  the  north  and  east, 
which  is  said  to  be  magnificent,  as  the  mountain 
is  about  five  thousand  feet  high.  The  wild, 
black  peaks  of  the  Black  Forest  were  spread  be- 
low us,  and  the  sun  sank  through  golden  mist 
towards  the  Alsatian  hills.  Afar  to  the  south, 
through  cloud  and  storm,  we  could  just  trace 


266  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

the  -white  outline  of  the  Swiss  Alps.  The  wind 
swept  through  the  pines  around,  and  bent  the 
long  yellow  grass  among  which  we  sat,  with  a 
strange,  mournful  sound,  well  suiting  the 
gloomy  and  mysterious  region.  It  soon  grew 
cold,  the  golden  clouds  settled  down  towards 
us,  and  we  made  haste  to  descend  to  the  village 
of  Lenzkirch  before  dark. 

Next  morning  we  set  out  early,  without  wait- 
ing to  see  the  trial  of  archery  which  was  to  take 
place  among  the  mountain  youths.  Their 
booths  and  targets,  gay  with  banners,  stood  on 
a  green  meadow  beside  the  town.  We  walked 
through  the  Black  Forest  the  whole  forenoon. 
It  might  be  owing  to  the  many  wild  stories 
whose  scenes  are  laid  among  these  hills,  but  with 
me  there  was  a  peculiar  feeling  of  solemnity  per- 
vading the  whole  region.  The  great  pine  woods 
are  of  the  very  darkest  hue  of  green,  and  down 
their  hoary,  moss-floored  aisles,  daylight  seems 
never  to  have  shone.  The  air  was  pure  and 
clear,  and  the  sunshine  bright,  but  it  imparted 
no  gaiety  to  the  scenery :  except  the  little  mead- 
ows of  living  emerald  which  lay  occasionally  in 
the  lap  of  a  dell,  the  landscape  wore  a  solemn 
and  serious  air.  In  a  storm,  it  must  be  sublime. 

About  noon,  from  the  top  of  the  last  range  of 
hills,  we  had  a  glorious  view.  The  line  of  the 
distant  Alps  could  be  faintly  traced  high  in  the 
clouds,  and  all  the  heights  between  were  plainly 
visible,  from  the  Lake  of  Constance  to  the  misty 
Jura,  which  flanked  the  Vosges  of  the  west. 
From  our  lofty  station  we  overlooked  half 
Switzerland,  and  had  the  air  been  a  little  clearer, 
we  could  have  seen  Mont  Blanc  and  the  mount- 
ains of  Savoy.  I  could  not  help  envying  the 
feelings  of  the  Swiss,  who,  after  long  absence 
from  their  native  land,  first  see  the  Alps  from 
this  road.  If  to  the  emotions  with  which  I  then 
looked  on  them  were  added  the  passionate  love 
of  home  and  country  which  a  long  absence  ere- 


SCfJAFFHAUSEtf.  267 

ates,  such  excess  of  rapture  would  be  almost  too 
great  to  be  borne. 

In  the  afternoon  we  crossed  the  border,  and 
took  leave  of  Germany  with  regret,  after  near  a 
year's  residence  within  its  bounds.  Still  it  was 
pleasant  to  know  we  were  in  a  republic  once 
more :  the  first  step  we  took  made  us  aware  of 
the  change.  There  was  no  policeman  to  call  for 
our  passports  or  search  our  baggage.  It  was 
just  dark  when  we  reached  the  hill  overlooking 
the  Rhine,  on  whose  steep  banks  is  perched  the 
antique  town  of  Schaifhausen.  It  is  still  walled 
in,  with  towers  at  regular  intervals ;  the  streets 
are  wide  and  spacious,  and  the  houses  rendered 
extremely  picturesque  by  the  quaint  projecting 
windows.  The  buildings  are  nearly  all  old,  as  we 
learned  by  the  dates  above  the  doors.  At  the 
inn,  I  met  with  one  of  the  free  troopers  who 
marched  against  Luzerne.  He  was  full  of  spirit, 
and  ready  to  undertake  another  such  journey. 
Indeed  it  is  the  universal  opinion  that  the  pres- 
ent condition  of  things  cannot  last  much  longer. 

We  took  a  walk  before  breakfast  to  the  Falls 
of  the  Rhine,  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from 
Schaff  hausen.  I  confess  I  was  somewhat  disap- 
pointed in  them,  after  the  glowing  descriptions 
of  travellers.  The  river  at  this  place  is  little 
more  than  thirty  yards  wide,  and  the  body  of 
water,  although,  issuing  from  the  Lake  of  Con- 
stance, is  not  remarkably  strong.  For  some 
distance  above,  the  fall  of  the  water  is  very  rapid, 
and  as  it  finally  reaches  the  spot  where,  nar- 
rowed between  rocks,  it  makes  the  grand  plunge, 
it  has  acquired  a  great  velocity.  Three  rocks 
stand  in  the  middle  of  the  current,  which  thun- 
ders against  and  around  their  bases,  but  cannot 
shake  them  down.  These  and  the  rocks  in  the 
bed  of  the  stream,  break  the  force  of  the  fall,  so 
that  it  descends  to  the  bottom,  about  fifty  feet 
below,  not  in  one  sheet,  but  shivered  into  a  hun- 
dred leaps  of  snowy  foam.  The  precipitous 


&8  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

shores,  and  the  tasteful  little  castle  which  is 
perched  upon  the  steep  ju.st  over  the  boiling 
spray,  add  much  to  its  beauty,  taken  as  a  pict- 
ure. As  a  specimen  of  the  picturesque,  the  whole 
scene  is  perfect.  I  should  think  Trenton  Falls, 
in  New  York,  must  excel  these  in  wild,  startling 
effect ;  but  there  is  such  a  scarcity  of  waterfalls 
in  this  land,  that  the  Germans  go  into  raptures 
about  them,  and  will  hardly  believe  that  Ni- 
agara itself  possesses  more  sublimity. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

PEOPLE  AND  PLACES    IN    EASTERN    SWITZERLAND. 

We  left  Schaffhausen  for  Zurich,  in  mist  and 
rain,  and  walked  for  some  time  along  the  north 
bank  of  the  Rhine.  We  could  have  enjoyed  the 
scenery  much  better,  had  it  not  been  for  the 
rain,  which  not  only  hid  the  mountains  from 
sight,  but  kept  us  constantly  half  soaked.  We 
crossed  the  rapid  Rhine  at  Eglisau,  a  curious 
antique  village,  and  then  continued  our  way 
through  the  forests  of  Canon  Zurich,  to  Biilach, 
with  its  groves  and  lindens — "those  tall  and 
stately  trees,  with  velvet  down  upon  their  shin- 
ing leaves,  and  rustic  benches  placed  beneath 
their  overhanging  eaves." 

When  we  left  the  little  village  where  the  rain 
obliged  us  to  stop  for  the  night,  it  was  clear  and 
delightful.  The  farmers  were  out  busy  at  work, 
their  long,  straight  scythes  glancing  through 
the  wet  grass,  while  the  thick  pines  sparkled 
with  thousands  of  dewy  diamonds.  The  coun- 
try was  so  beautiful  and  cheerful,  that  we  half 
felt  like  being  in  America.  The  farm-houses  were 


5  Wl  TZERL  A  ND.  269 

scattered  over  the  country  in  real  American 
style,  and  the  glorious  valley  of  the  Limmat, 
bordered  on  the  west  by  a  range  of  woody  hills, 
reminded  me  of  some  scenes  in  my  native  Penn- 
sylvania. The  houses  were  neatly  and  tastefully 
built,  with  little  gardens  around  them — and  the 
countenances  of  the  people  spoke  of  intelligence 
and  independence.  There  was  the  same  air  of 
peace  and  prosperity  which  delighted  us  in  the 
valleys  of  upper  Austria,  with  a  look  of  freedom 
which  those  had  not.  The  faces  of  a  people  are 
the  best  index  to  their  condition.  I  could  read 
on  their  brows  a  lofty  self-respect,  a  conscious- 
ness of  the  liberties  they  enjoy,  which  the  Ger- 
mans of  the  laboring  class  never  show.  It  could 
not  be  imagination,  for  the  recent  occurrences  in 
Switzerland,  with  the  many  statements  I  heard 
in  Germany,  had  prejudiced  me  somewhat  against 
the  land ;  and  these  marks  of  prosperity  and  free- 
dom were  as  surprising  as  they  were  delightful. 

As  we  approached  Zurich,  the  noise  of  employ- 
ment from  mills,  furnaces  and  factories,  came  to 
us  like  familiar  sounds,  reminding  us  of  the  bus- 
tle of  our  home  cities.  The  situation  of  the  city 
is  lovely.  It  lies  at  the  head  of  the  lake,  and  on 
both  sides  of  the  little  river  Limmat,  whose 
clear  green  waters  carry  the  collected  meltings 
of  the  Alps  to  the  Rhine.  Around  the  lake  rise 
lofty  green  hills,  wrhich,  sloping  gently  back, 
bear  on  their  sides  hundreds  of  pleasant  country 
houses  and  farms,  and  the  snowy  Alpine  range 
extends  along  the  southern  sky.  The  Limmat 
is  spanned  by  a  number  of  bridges,  and  its  swift 
waters  turn  many  mills  which  are  built  above 
them.  From  these  bridges  one  can  look  out 
over  the  blue  lake  and  down  the  thronged  streets 
of  the  city  on  each  side,  whose  bright,  cheerful 
houses  remind  him  of  Italy. 

Zurich  can  boast  of  finer  promenades  than  any 
other  city  in  Switzerland.  The  old  battlements 
are  planted  with  trees  and  transformed  into 


170  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

pleasant  walks,  which  being  elevated  above  the 
city,  command  views  of  its  beautiful  environs. 
A  favorite  place  of  resort  is  the  Lindenhof,  an 
elevated  court-yard,  shaded  by  immense  trees. 
The  fountains  of  water  under  them  are  always 
surrounded  by  washerwomen,  and  in  the  morn- 
ing groups  of  merry  school  children  may  be  sei-n 
tumbling  over  the  grass.  The  teachers  take 
them  there  in  a  body  for  exercise  and  recreation. 
The  Swiss  children  are  beautiful,  bright-eyed 
creatures ;  there  is  scarcehy  one  who  does  not  ex- 
hibit the  dawning  of  an  active,  energetic  spirit. 
It  may  be  partly  attributed  to  the  fresh,  healthy 
climate  of  Switzerland,  but  I  am  partial  enough 
to  republics  to  believe  that  the  influence  of  the 
Government  under  which  they  live,  has  also  its 
share  in  producing  the  effect. 

There  is  a  handsome  promenade  on  an  elevated 
bastion  which  overlooks  the  city  and  lakes. 
While  enjoying  the  cool  morning  breeze  and  lis- 
tening to  the  stir  of  the  streets  below  us,  we  were 
also  made  aware  of  the  social  and  friendly  po- 
liteness of  the  people.  Those  who  passed  by,  on 
their  walk  around  the  rampart,  greeted  us,  al- 
most with  the  familiarity  of  an  acquaintance. 
Simple  ai  was  the  act,  we  felt  grateful,  for  it  had 
at  least  the  seeming  of  a  friendly  interest  and  a 
sympathy  with  the  loneliness  which,  the  Rt  ranger 
sometimes  feels.  A  school-teacher  leading  her 
troop  of  merry  children  on  their  morning  walk 
around  the  bastion,  nodded  to  r,s  pleasantly  and 
forthwith  the  whole  company  of  chubby-cheeked 
rogues,  looking  up  at  us  with  a  pleasant  arch- 
ness, lisped  a  l\i>-uten  morgen"  that  m.'ide  the 
hearts  glad  within  us.  I  know  of  nothing  that 
has  given  me  a  more  sweet  and  tender  d  light 
than  the  greeting  of  a  little  child,  who,  leaving 
his  noisy  playmates,  ran  across  the  street  to  me, 
and  taking  my  hand,  which  he  could  barely  clasp 
in  both  his  soft  little  ones,  looked  up  in  my  iac<! 
with  an  expression  so  winning  and  affectionate, 


THE  ALP-GLOV,'.  £71 

that  I  loved  him  at  once.  The  happy,  honest 
farmers,  too,  spoke  to  us  cheerfully  everywhere. 
We  learned  a  lesson  from  all  this — we  felt  that 
not  a  word  of  kindness  is  ever  wasted,  that  a 
simple  friendly  glance  may  cheer  the  spirit  and 
warm  the  lonely  heart,  and  that  the  slightest 
deed,  prompted  by  generous  sympathy,  becomes 
a  living  joy  in  the  memory  of  the  receiver,  which 
blesses  unceasingly  him  who  bestowed  it. 

"VVe  left  Zurich  the  same  afternoon,  to  walk  to 
Stafa,  where  we  were  told  the  poet  Freiligrath 
resided.  The  road  led  along  the  bank  of  the 
lake,  whose  shores  sloped  gently  up  from  the 
water,  covered  with  gardens  and  farm-houses, 
which,  with  the  bolder  mountains  that  rose  be- 
hind them,  made  a  combination  of  the  lovely 
and  grand,  on  which  the  eye  rested  with  rapture 
and  delight.  The  sweetest  cottages  were  em- 
bowered among  the  orchards,  and  the  whole 
country  bloomed  like  a  garden.  The  waters  of 
the  lake  are  of  a  pale,  transparent  green,  and  so 
clear  that  we  could  see  its  bottom  of  white  peb- 
(bles,  for  some  distance.  Here  and  there  floated 
a  quiet  boat  on  its  surface.  The  opposite  hills 
were  covered  with  a  soft  blue  haze,  and  white 
villages  sat  along  the  shore,  "like  swans  among 
the  reeds."  Behind,  we  saw  the  woody  range  of 
the  Bruni^  Alp.  The  people  bade  us  a  pleasant 
good  evening;  there  was  a  universal  air  of  cheer- 
fulness and  content  on  their  countenances. 

Towards  evening,  the  clouds  which  hung  in  the 
south  the  whole  day,  dispersed  a  little  and  we 
could  see  the  Dodiberg  and  the  Alps  of  Glarus. 
As  sunset  drew  on,  the  broad  summits  of  snow 
and  the  clouds  which  wrere  rolled  around  them, 
assumed  a  soft  rosy  hue,  which  increased  in  briU 
lianc}^  as  the  light  of  day  faded.  The  rough,  icy 
frags  and  snowy  steeps  were  fused  in  the  warm 
light  and  half  blended  with  the  bright  clouds. 
This  blaze,  as  it  were,  of  the  mountains  at  sun- 
set, is  called  the  Alp-glow,  and  exceeds  all  one's 


272  VIEWS   A-FOOT. 

highest  conceptions  of  Alpine  grandeur.  TTe 
watched  the  fading  glory  till  it  quite  died  away, 
and  the  summits  wore  a  livid,  ashy  hue,  like  the 
mountains  of  a  world  wherein  there  was  no  life. 
In  a  few  minutes  more  the  dusk  of  twilight 
spread  over  the  scene,  the  boatmen  glided  home 
over  the  still  lake  and  the  herdsmen  drove  their 
cattle  back  from  pasture  on  the  slopes  and 
meadows. 

On  inquiring  for  Freiligrath  at  Stafa,  we  found 
he  had  removed  to  Rapperschwyl,  some  distance 
further.  As  it  was  already  late,  we  waited  for 
the  steamboat  which  leaves  Zurich  every  evening. 
It  came  along  about  eight  o'clock,  and  a  little 
boat  carried  us  out  through  rain  and  darkness 
to  meet  it,  as  it  came  like  a  fiery-eyed  monster 
over  the  water.  We  stepped  on  board  the  "Re- 
publican," and  in  half  an  hour  were  brought  to 
the  wharf  at  Rapperschwyl. 

There  are  two  small  islands  in  the  lake,  one  of 
which,  with  a  little  chapel  rising  from  among 
the  trees,  is  Ufnau,  the  grave  of  Ulrich  von 
Hutten,  one  of  the  fathers  of  the  German  Ref- 
ormation. His  fiery  poems  have  been  the 
source  from  which  many  a  German  bard  has 
derived  his  inspiration,  and  Freiligrath  who 
now  lives  in  sight  of  his  tomb,  has  published 
an  indignant  poem,  because  an  inn  with  gaming 
tables  has  been  established  in  the  ruins  of  the 
castle  near  Creuznach,  where  Hutten  found 
refuge  from  his  enemies  with  Franz  von  Sickin- 
gen,  brother-in-law  of  "Goetz  with  the  Iron 
Hand."  The  monks  of  Einsiedeln,  to  whom 
Ufnau  belongs,  have  carefully  obliterated  all 
traces  of  his  grave,  so  that  the  exact  spot  is  not 
known,  in  order  that  even  a  tombstone  might  be 
denied  him  who  once  strove  to  overturn  their 
order.  It  matters  little  to  that  bold  spirit 
whose  motto  was:  "The  die  is  cast — /  have 
dared  it  /" — the  whole  island  is  his  monument  if 
he  need  one. 


THE  POET  FREILIGRATH.  273 

I  spent  the  whole  of  the  morning  with  Freili- 
grath,  the  poet,  who  was  lately  banished  from 
Germany  on  account  of  the  liberal  principles  his 
last  volume  contains.  He  lives  in  a  pleasant 
country-house  on  the  Meyerberg,  an  eminence 
near  Rappersehwyl  overlooking  a  glorious  pros- 
pect. On  leaving  Frankfort,  R.  S.  Willis  gave  me 
a  letter  to  him,  and  I  was  glad  to  meet  with  a 
man  personally  whom  I  admired  so  much  through 
his  writings,  and  whose  boldness  in  speaking  out 
against  the  tyranny  which  his  country  suffers, 
forms  such  a  noble  contrast  to  the  cautious 
slowness  of  his  countrymen.  He  received  me 
kindly  and  conversed  much  upon  American  lit- 
erature. He  is  a  w7arm  admirer  of  Bryant  and 
Longfellow,  and  has  translated  many  of  their 
poems  into  German.  He  said  he  had  received  a 
warm  invitation  from  a  colony  of  Germans  in 
Wisconsin,  to  join  them  and  enjoy  that  freedom 
which  his  native  land  denies,  but  that  his  cir- 
cumstances would  not  allow  it  at  present.  He 
is  perhaps  thirty-five  years  of  age.  His  brow  is 
high  and  noble,  and  his  eyes,  which  are  large  and 
of  a  clear  gray,  beam  with  serious,  saddened 
thought.  His  long  chestnut  hair,  uniting  with  a 
handsome  beard  and  moustache,  gives  a  lion- 
like  dignity  to  his  energetic  countenance.  His 
talented  wife,  Ida  Freiligrath,  who  shares  his  lit- 
erary labors,  and  an  amiable  sister,  are  with  him 
in  exile,  and  he  is  happier  in  their  faithfulness 
than  when  he  enjoyed  the  favors  of  a  corrupt 
king. 

We  crossed  the  long  bridge  from  Rapper- 
schwyl, and  took  the  road  over  the  mountain 
opposite,  ascending  for  nearty  two  hours  along 
the  side,  with  glorious  views  of  the  Lake  of  Zu- 
rich and  the  mountains  which  enclose  it.  The 
upper  and  lower  ends  of  the  lake-  were  com- 
pletely hid  by  the  storms,  which  to  our  regret, 
veiled  the  Alps,  but  the  part  below  lay  spread 
out  dim  and  grand,  like  a  vast  picture.  It 


274  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

rained  almost  constantly,  and  we  were  obliged 
occasionally  to  take  shelter  in  the  pine  forests, 
whenever  a  heavier  cloud  passed  over.  The  road 
was  lined  with  beggars,  who  dropped  on  their 
knees  in  the  rain  before  us,  or  placed  bars  across 
the  way,  and  then  took  them  down  again,  for 
which  they  demanded  money. 

At  length  we  reached  the  top  of  the  pass. 
Many  pilgrims  to  Einsiedeln  had  stopped  at  a 
little  inn  there,  some  of  whom  came  a  long  dis- 
tance to  pay  their  vows,  especially  as  the  next 
day  was  the  Ascension  day  of  the  Virgin,  whose 
image  there  is  noted  for  performing  many  mira- 
cles. Passing  on,  we  crossed  a  wfld  torrent  by 
an  arch  called  the  "  Devil's  Bridge."  The  lofty, 
elevated  plains  were  covered  with  scanty  patches 
of  grain  and  potatoes,  and  the  boys  tended 
their  goats  on  the  grassy  slopes,  sometimes 
trilling  or  yodling  an  Alpine  melody.  An  hour's 
walk  brought  us  to  Einsiedeln,  a  small  town, 
whose  only  attraction  is  the  Abbey — after  Lo- 
retto,  in  Italy,  the  most  celebrated  resort  for 
pilgrims  in  Europe. 

We  entered  immediately  into  the  great  church. 
The  gorgeous  vaulted  roof  and  long  aisles  were 
dim  with  the  early  evening;  hundreds  of  wor- 
shippers sat  around  the  sides,  or  kneeled  in 
groups  on  the  broad  stone  pavements,  chanting 
over  their  Paternosters  and  Ave  Marias  in  a 
•shrill,  monotonous  tone,  while  the  holy  image 
near  tne  entrance  was  surrounded  by  persons, 
many  of  whom  came  in  the  hope  of  being  healed 
of  some  disorder  under  which  they  suffered.  I 
could  not  distinctly  make  out  the  image,  for  it 
wns  placed  back  within  the  grating,  and  a  strong 
crimson  lamp  behind  it  was  made  to  throw  the 
light  around,  in  the  form  of  a  glory.  Many  of 
the  pilgrims  came  a  long  distance.  I  saw  some 
in  the  costume  of  the  Black  Forest,  and  others 
who  appeared  to  be  natives  of  the  Italian  Can- 
tons; and  a  group  of  young  women  wearinc 


ALPINE  SCENERT.  275 

conical  fur  caps,  from  the  forests  of  Bregenz,  on 
the  Lake  of  Constance. 

I  was  astonished  at  the  splendor  of  this  church, 
situated  in  a  lonely  and  unproductive  Alpine 
valley.  The  lofty  arches  of  the  ceiling,  which 
are  covered  with  superb  fresco  paintings,  rest  on 
enormous  pillars  of  granite,  and  every  image 
and  shrine  is  richly  ornamented  with  gold. 
Some  of  the  chapels  were  filled  with  the  remains 
of  martyrs,  and  these  were  always  surrounded 
with  throngs  of  believers.  The  choir  was  closed 
by  a  tall  iron  grating;  a  single  lamp,  which 
swung  from  the  roof,  enabled  me  to  see  through 
the  darkness,  that  though  much  more  rich  in  or- 
naments  than  the  body  of  the  church,  it  was 
less  grand  and  impressive.  The  frescoes  which 
cover  the  ceiling,  are  said  to  be  the  finest  paint- 
ings of  the  kind  in  Switzerland. 

In  the  morning  our  starting  was  delayed  by 
the  rain,  and  we  took  advantage  of  it  to  hear 
mass  in  the  Abbey  and  enjoy  the  heavenly  music. 
The  latter  was  of  the  loftiest  kind ;  there  was 
one  voice  among  the  singers  I  shall  not  soon 
forget.  It  was  like  the  warble  of  a  bird  who 
sings  out  of  very  wantonness.  On  and  on  it 
sounded,  making  its  clear,  radiant  sweetness 
heard  above  the  chant  of  the  choir  and  the 
thunder  of  the  orchestra.  Such  a  rich,  varied 
and  untiring  strain  of  melody  I  have  rarely  lis- 
tened to. 

When  the  service  ceased,  we  took  a  small  road 
leading  to  Schwytz.  We  had  now  fairly  entered 
the  Alpine  region,  and  our  first  task  was  to 
cross  a  mountain.  This  having  been  done,  we 
kept  along  the  back  of  the  ridge  which  bounds 
the  lake  of  Zug  on  the  south,  terminating  in  the 
well  known  Rossberg.  The  scenery  became 
wilder  with  every  step.  The  luxuriant  fields  of 
herbage  on  the  mountains  were  spotted  with  the 
picturesque  chalets  of  the  hunters  and  Alp- 
aerds ;  cattle  and  goats  were  browsing  along  the 


276  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

declivities,  their  bells  tinkling  most  musically, 
and  the  little  streams  fell  in  foam  down  the 
steeps.  We  here  began  to  realize  our  anticipa- 
tions of  Swiss  scenery.  Just  on  the  other  side 
of  the  range,  along  which  we  travelled,  lay  the 
little  lake  of  Egeri  and  valley  of  Morgarten, 
where  Tell  and  his  followers  overcame  the  army 
of  the  German  Emperor;  near  the  lake  of  Lo- 
wertz,  we  found  a  chapel  by  the  roadside,  built 
on  the  spot  where  the  house  of  Werner  Stauff- 
acher,  one  of  the  ''three  men  of  Grutli,"  for- 
merly stood.  It  bears  a  poetical  inscription  in 
old  German,  and  a  rude  painting  of  the  Battle 
of  Morgarten. 

As  wTe  wound  around  the  lake  of  Lowertz,  we 
saw  the  valley  lying  between  the  Rossberg  and 
the  Righi,  which  latter  mountain  stood  full  in 
view.  To  our  regret,  and  that  of  all  other  trav- 
ellers, the  clouds  hung  low  upon  it,  as  they  had 
done  for  a  week  at  least,  and  there  was  no  pros- 
pect of  a  change.  The  Rossberg,  from  which  we 
descended,  is  about  four  thousand  feet  in  height; 
a  dark  brown  stripe  from,  its  very  summit  to  the 
valley  below,  shows  the  track  of  the  avalanche 
which,  in  1806,  overwhelmed  Goldau,  and  laid 
waste  the  beautiful  vale  of  Lowertz.  We  could 
trace  the  masses  of  rock  and  earth  as  far  as  the 
foot  of  the  Righi.  Four  hundred  and  fifty  per- 
sons perished  by  this  catastrophe,  which  was  so 
sudden  that  in  five  minutes  the  whole  lovely 
valley  was  transformed  into  a  desolate  wilder- 
ness. The  shock  was  so  great  that  the  lake  of 
Lowertz  overflowed  its  banks,  and  part  of  the 
village  of  Steinen  at  the  upper  end  was  destroyed 
by  the  waters. 

An  hour's  walk  through  a  blooming  Alpine 
vale  brought  us  to  the  little  town  of  Scliwytz, 
the  capital  of  the  Canton.  It  stands  at  the  foot 
of  a  rock-mountain,  in  shape  not  unlike  Gibral- 
tar, but  double  its  height.  The  bare  and  rugged 
summits  seem  to  hang  directly  over  the  town, 


THE  MEADOW  OF  GRUTLI.  277 

but  the  people  dwell  below  without  fear,  al- 
though the  warning  ruins  of  Goldau  are  full  in 
sight.  A  narrow  blue  line  at  the  end  of  the 
valley  which  stretches  westward,  marks  the  lake 
of  the  Four  Cantons.  Down  this  valley  we  hur- 
ried, that  we  might  not  miss  the  boat  which 
plies  daily,  from  Luzerne  to  Fluelen.  I  regretted 
not  being  able  to  visit  Luzerne,  as  I  had  a  letter 
to  the  distinguished  Swiss  composer,  Schnyder 
von  Wartensee,  who  resides  there  at  present. 
The  place  is  said  to  present  a  most  desolate  ap- 
pearance, being  avoided  by  travellers,  and  even 
by  artisans,  BO  that  business  of  all  kinds  has  al- 
most entirely  ceased. 

At  the  little  town  of  Brunnen,  on  the  lake,  we 
awaited  the  coming  of  the  steamboat.  The 
scenery  around  it  is  exceedingly  grand.  Look- 
ing down  to  wards  Luzerne,  we  could  see  the  dark 
mass  of  Mount  Pilatus  on  one  side,  and  on  the 
other  the  graceful  outline  of  the  Kighi,  still 
wearing  his  hood  of  clouds.  We  put  off  in  a 
skiff  to  meet  the  boat,  with  two  Capuchin  friars 
in  long  brown  mantles  and  cowls,  carrying 
rosaries  at  their  girdles. 

Nearly  opposite  Brunnen  is  the  meadow  of 
Griitli,  where  the  union  of  the  Swiss  patriots 
took  place,  and  the  bond  was  sealed  that  enabled 
them  to  cast  off  their  chains.  It  is  a  little  green 
slope  on  the  side  of  the  mountain,  between  the 
two  Cantons  of  Uri  and  Unterwalden,  sur- 
rounded on  all  sides  by  precipices.  A  little  crys- 
tal spring  in  the  centre  is  believed  by  the  com- 
mon people  to  have  gushed  up  on  the  spot  where 
the  three  "linked  the  hands  that  made  them 
free. "  It  is  also  a  popular  belief  that  they  slum- 
ber in  a  rocky  cavern  near  the  spot,  and  that 
they  will  arise  and  come  forth  when  the  liberties 
of  Switzerland  are  in  danger.  She  stands  at 
present  greatly  in  need  of  a  new  triad  to  restore 
the  ancient  harmony. 

"We  passed  this  glorious  scene,  almost  the  onty 


278  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

green  spot  on  the  bleak  mountain-side,  and 
swept  around  the  base  of  the  Axenberg,  at 
whose  foot,  in  a  rocky  cave,  stands  the  chapel 
of  William  Tell.  This  is  built  on  the  spot  where 
he  leaped  from  Gessler's  boat  during  the  storm. 
It  sits  at  the  base  of  the  rock,  on  the  water's 
edge,  and  can  be  seen  far  over  the  waves.  The 
Alps,  whose  eternal  snows  are  lifted  dazzling  to 
the  sky,  complete  the  grandeur  of  scene  so  hal- 
lowed by  the  footsteps  of  freedom.  The  grand 
and  lonely  solemnity  of  the  landscape  impressed 
me  with  an  awe,  like  that  one  feels  when  stand- 
ing in  a  mighty  cathedral,  when  the  aisles  are 
dim  with  twilight.  And  how  full  of  interest  to  a 
citizen  of  young  and  free  America  is  a  shrine 
where  the  votaries  of  Liberty  have  turned  to 
gather  strength  and  courage,  through  the 
storms  and  convulsions  of  five  hundred  years ! 

We  stopped  at  the  village  of  Fluelen,  at  the 
head  of  the  lake,  and  walked  on  to  Altorf,  a  dis- 
tance of  half  a  leagiie.  Here,  in  the  market 
place,  is  a  tower  said  to  be  built  on  the  spot 
where  the  linden  tree  stood,  under  which  the 
child  of  Tell  was  placed,  while,  about  a  hundred 
yards  distant,  is  a  fountain  with  Tell's  statue, 
on  the  spot  from  whence  he  shot  the  apple.  If 
these  localities  are  correct,  he  must  indeed  have 
been  master  of  the  cross-bow.  The  tower  is  cov- 
ered with  rude  paintings  of  the  principal  events 
in  the  history  of  Swiss  liberty.  I  viewed  these 
scenes  with  double  interest  from  having  read 
Schiller's  "  Wilhelm  Tell,"  one  of  the  most  splen- 
did tragedies  ever  written.  The  beautiful  reply 
of  his  boy,  when  he  described  to  him  the  condi- 
tion of  the  "land  wrhere  there  are  no  mount- 
ains," was  sounding  in  my  ears  during  the 
whole  day's  journey : 

"  Father,  I'd  feel  oppressed  in  that  broad  land, 
I'd  rather  dwell  beneath  the  avalanche!  " 

The  little  village  of  Burglen,  whose  spire  we 


TH£  FOOTSTEPS  OF  TELL.  271 

saw  above  the  forest,  in  a  gien  near  by,  was  the 
birth-place  of  Tell,  and  the  place  where  his 
dwelling  stood,  is  now  marked  by  a  small 
chapel.  In  the  Schachen,  a  noisy  mountain 
stream  that  comes  down  to  join  the  Reuss,  he 
was  drowned,  when  an  old  man,  in  attempting 
to  rescue  a  child  who  had  fallen  in — a  death 
worthy  of  the  hero!  We  bestowed  a  blessing 
on  his  memory  in  passing,  and  then  followed 
the  banks  of  the  rapid  Reuss.  Twilight  was 
gathering  in  the  deep  Alpine  glen,  and  the 
mountains  on  each  side,  half  seen  through  the 
mist,  looked  like  vast,  awful  phantoms.  Soon 
they  darkened  to  black,  indistinct  masses;  all 
was  silent  except  the  deepened  roar  of  the  falling 
floods;  dark  clouds  brooded  above  us  like  the 
outspread  wings  of  night,  and  we  were  glad, 
when  the  little  village  of  Amstegg  was  reached, 
and  the  parlor  of  the  inn  opened  to  us  a  more 
cheerful,  if  not  so  romantic  scene. 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

PASSAGE     OF    THE     ST.    GOTHAED    AND     DESCENT 
INTO    ITALY. 

Leaving  Amstnro;,  I  passed  the  whole  day 
among  snowy,  sky-piercing  Alps,  torrents, 
chasms  and  clouds !  The  clouds  appeared  to  be 
breaking  up  as  we  set  out,  and  the  white  top  of 
the  Renssberg  was  now  and  then  visible  in  the 
sky.  Just  above  the  village  are  the  remains  of 
Zwing  Uri,  the  castlo  begun  by  the  tyrant 
Gessler,  for  the  complete  subjugation  of  the 
canton.  Following  the  Reuss  up  through  a  nar- 
row valley,  we  passed  the  Bristenstock,  which 
lifts  its  jagged  crags  nine  thousand  feet  in  the 


280  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

air,  while  on  the  other  side  stand  the  snowy 
summits  which  lean  towards  the  Rhone  Glacier 
and  St.  Gothard.  From  the  deep  glen  where  the 
Reuss  foamed  down  towards  the  Lake  of  the 
Forest  Cantons,  the  mountains  rose  with  a 
majestic  sweep  so  far  into  the  sky  that  the  brain 
grew  almost  dizzy  in  following  their  outlines. 
Woods,  chalets  and  slopes  of  herbage  cov- 
ered their  bases,  where  the  mountain  cattle 
and  goats  were  browsing,  while  the  herd-boys 
sang  their  native  melodies  or  woke  the  ringing 
echoes  with  the  loud,  sweet  sounds  of  their 
wooden  horns ;  higher  up,  the  sides  were  broken 
into  crags  and  covered  with  stunted  pines ;  then 
succeeded  a  belt  of  bare  rock  with  a  little  snow 
lying  in  the  crevices,  and  the  summits  of  daz- 
zling white  looked  out  from  the  clouds  nearly 
three-fourths  the  height  of  the  zenith.  Some- 
times when  the  vale  was  filled  with  clouds  it  was 
startling  to  see  them  parting  around  a  solitary 
summit,  apparently  isolated  in  the  air  at  an  im- 
mense height,  for  the  mountain  to  which  it  be- 
longed was  hidden  to  the  very  base ! 

The  road  passed  from  one  side  of  the  valley  to 
the  other,  crossing  the  Reuss  on  bridges  some- 
times ninety  feet  high.  After  three  or  four 
hours'  walking,  we  reached  a  frightful  pass 
called  the  Schollenen.  So  narrow  is  the  defile 
that  before  reaching  it,  the  road  seemed  to  enter 
directly  into  the  mountain.  Precipices  a  thou- 
sand feet  high  tower  above,  and  the  stream 
roars  and  boils  in  the  black  depths  below.  The 
road  is  a  wonder  of  art ;  it  winds  around  the 
edge  of  horrible  chasms  or  is  carried  on  lofty 
arches  across,  with  sometimes  a  hold  apparently 
so  frail  that  one  involuntarily  shudders.  At  a 
place  called  the  Devil's  Bridge,  the  Reuss  leaps 
about  seventy  feet  in  three  or  four  cascades, 
sending  up  continually  a  cloud  of  spray,  while  a 
wind  created  by  the  fall,  blows  and  whirls 
around,  with  a  force  that  nearly  lifts  one  from 


ST.  GOTHARD.  281 

his  feet.    Wordsworth  has  described  the  scene  in 
the  following  lines : 

"  Plunge  with  the  Reuss  embowered  by  terror's  breath. 
Where  danger  roofs  the  narrow  walks  of  Death; 
By  floods  that,  thundering  from  their  dizzy  height, 
Swell  more  gigantic  on  the  steadfast  sight, 
Black,  drizzling  crags-  that,  beaten  by  the  din, 
Vibrate,  as  if  a  voice  complained  within, 
Loose  hanging  rocks,  the  Day's  blessed  eye  that  hide, 
And  crosses  reared  to  Death  on  every  side !" 

Beyond  the  Devil's  Bridge,  the  mountains 
which  nearly  touched  before,  interlock  into  each 
other,  and  a  tunnel  three  hundred  and  seventy- 
five  feet  long  leads  through  the  rock  into  the 
vale  of  Urseren,  surrounded  by  the  Upper  Alps. 
The  little  town  of  Andermatt  lies  in  the  middle 
of  this  valley,  which  with  the  peaks  around  is 
covered  with  short,  yellowish-brown  grass.  We 
met  near  Amstegg  a  little  Italian  boy  walking 
home,  from  Germany,  quite  alone  and  without 
money,  for  we  saw  him  give  his  last  kreutzer  to 
a  blind  beggar  along  the  road.  We  therefore 
took  him  with  us,  as  he  was  afraid  to  cross  the 
St.  Gothard  alone. 

After  refreshing  ourselves  at  Andermatt,  we 
started,  five  in  number,  including  a  German 
student,  for  the  St.  Gothard.  Behind  the  village 
of  Hospiz,  which  stands  at  the  bottom  of  the 
valley  leading  to  Realp  and  the  Furca  pass,  the 
way  commences,  winding  backwards  and  for- 
wards, higher  and  higher,  through  a  valley  cov- 
ered with  rocks,  with  the  mighty  summits  of  the 
Alps  around,  untenanted  save  by  the  chamois 
and  mountain  eagle.  Not  a  tree  was  tD  be  seen. 
The  sides  of  the  mountains  were  covered  with 
loose  rocks  waiting  for  the  next  torrent  to  wash 
them  down,  and  the  tops  were  robed  in  eternal 
siio\v.  A  thick  cloud  rolled  down  over  us  as  we 
went  on,  following  the  diminishing  brooks  to 
their  snowy  source  in  tho  peak  of  St,  Gothard. 
We  cut  off  the  bends  of  the  road  by  footpaths 


282  VIEWS   A- FOOT. 

up  the  rocks,  which  we  as< -ended  in  single  file, 
one  of  the  Americans  (.fo'uii>;  uli<';i<l  and  little 
Pietro  with  his  stall  and  bundle  bringing  up  the 
rear.  The  rarefied  air  we  breathed,  seven  thou- 
sand feet  above  the  sea,  was  like  exhilarating 
gas.  We  felt  no  fatigue,  but  ran  and  shout*--.] 
and  threw  snowballs,  in  the  middle  of  Angus)  ! 

After  three  hours'  walk  we  reached  the  two 
clear  and  silent  lakes  which  send  their  watei  s  to 
the  Adriatic  and  the  North  Sea.  Here,  as  we 
looked  down  the  Italian  side,  the  sky  became 
clear;  we  saw  the  top  of  St.  Gothard  many 
thousand  feet  above,  and  stretching  to  the 
south  the  summits  of  the  mountains  which 
guard  the  vales  of  the  Tiemo  and  the  Adda. 
The  former  monastery  has  been  turned  into  an 
inn  :  there  is,  however,  a  kind  of  church  attached, 
attended  by  a  single  monk.  It  was  so  cold  that 
although  late,  we  determined  to  descend  to  the 
first  village.  The  Italian  side  is  very  steep,  and 
the  road,  called  the  Via  Trimola,is  like  a  tlm  ad 
dropped  down  and  constantly  doubling  back 
upon  itself.  The  deep  chasms  were  filled  with 
snow,  although  exposed  to  the  full  force  of  the 
sun,  and  for  a  long  distance  there  Avas  scarcely 
a  sign  of  vegetation. 

We  thought  as  we  wrent  down,  that  every  s1<-]> 
was  bringing  us  nearer  to  a  sunnier  land — that 
the  glories  of  Italy,  wrhich  had  so  long  lain  in 
the  airy  background  of  the  future,  would  soon 
spread  themselves  before  us  in  their  real  or  im- 
agined beauty.  Reaching  at  dusk  the  last 
height  above  the  vale  of  the  Ticino,  we  saw  the 
little  village  of  Airolo  with  its  musical  name, 
lying  in  a  hollow  of  the  mountains.  A  few  min- 
utes of  leaping,  sliding  and  rolling,  took  us 
down  the  grassy  declivity,  and  we  found  we  had 
descended  from  the  top  in  an  hour  and  a  half, 
although  the  distance  by  the  road  is  nine  miles ! 
I  need  not  say  how  glad  we  were  to  relieve  our 
trembling  knees  and  exhausted  limbs. 


SONG  OF  THE  ALP.  283 

I  have  endeavored  several  times  to  give  some 
idea  of  the  sublimity  of  the  Alps,  but  words 
seem  almost  powerless  to  measure  these  mighty 
mountains.  No  effort  of  the  imagination  could 
possibly  equal  their  real  grandeur.  I  wish  also 
to  describe  the  feelings  inspired  by  being  among 
them, — feelings  which  can  best  be  expressed 
through  the  warmer  medium  of  poetry. 

SONG  OP' THE  ALP. 


I  sit  aloft  on  my  thunder  throne, 

And  my  voice  of  dread  the  nations  own 

As  I  speak  in  storm  below  1 
The  valleys  quake  with  a  breathless  fear, 
When  I  hurl  in  wrath  my  icy  spear 

And  shake  my  locks  of  snow! 
When  the  avalanche  forth  like  a  tiger  leaps, 

How  the  vassal-mountains  quiver! 
And  the  storm  that  sweeps  through  the  airy  de«p€ 

Makes  the  hoary  pine-wood  shiver! 
Above  them  all,  in  a  brighter  air, 
I  lift  my  forehead  proud  and  bare, 
And  the  lengthened  sweep  of  my  forest-robe 
Trails  down  to  the  low  and  captured  globe, 
Till  its  borders  touch  the  dark  green  wave 
In  whose  soundless  depths  my  fett  I  lave. 
The  winds,  unprisoned,  around  me  blow, 
And  terrible  tempests  whirl  the  snow; 
Rocks  from  their  caverned  beds  are  torn, 
And  the  blasted  forest  to  heaven  is  borne; 
High  through  the  din  of  the  stormy  band, 
Like  misty  giants  the  mountains  stand, 
And  their  thunder-revel  o'er  sounds  the  woe, 
That  cries  from  the  desolate  vales  below! 
i  part  the  clouds  with  my  lifted  crown, 
Till  the  sun-ray  slants  on  the  glaciers  down, 
And  trembling  men,  in  the  valleys  pale, 
Rejoice  at  the  gleam  of  my  icy  maill 

II. 

I  wear  a  crown  of  the  sunbeam's  gold, 
With  glacier-gems  on  my  forehead  old— 

A  monarch  crowned  by  God! 
What  son  of  the  servile  earth  may  dar« 


284  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

Such  signs  of  a  regal  power  to  wear, 

While  chained  to  her  darkened  sod? 
I  know  of  a  nobler  and  grander  lore 

Than  Time  records  on  his  crumbling  page*. 
And  the  soul  of  »ny  solitude  teaches  more 

Than  the  gathered  deeds  of  perished  ages  I 
For  I  have  ruled  since  Time  began 
And  wear  no  fetter  made  by  man. 
I  scorn  the  coward  and  craven  race 
Who  dwell  around  my  mighty  base, 
For  they  leave  the  lessons  I  grandly  gave 
And  bend  to  the  yoke  of  the  crouching  slave. 
I  shout  aloud  to  the  chainless  skies; 
The  stream  through  its  falling  foam  replies, 
And  my  voice  like  the  sound  of  the  surging  sea, 
To  the  nations  thunders:  "I  am  free!" 
I  spoke  to  Tell  when  a  tyrant's  hand 
Lay  heavy  and  hard  on  his  native  land, 
And  the  spirit  whose  glory  from  mine  he  won 
Blessed  the  Alpine  dwellers  with  Freedom's  sun! 
The  student-boy  on  the  Gmunden-plain 
Heard  my  solemn  voice,  but  he  fought  in  vain; 
I  called  from  the  crags  of  the  Passeir-glen, 
When  the  despot  stood  in  my  realm  again, 
And  Hofer  sprang  at  the  proud  command 
And  roused  the  men  of  the  Tyrol  land  I 

ill. 

I  struggle  up  to  the  dim  blue  heaven, 

From  the  world,  far  down  in  whose  breasts  are  driver 

The  props  of  my  pillared  throne; 
And  the  rosy  fires  of  morning  glow 
Like  a  glorious  thought,  on  my  brow  of  snow, 

While  the  vales  are  dark  and  lone! 
Ere  twilight  summons  the  first  faint  star, 
I  seem  to  the  nations  who  dwell  afar 
Like  a  shadow  cloud,  whose  every  fold 
The  sunset  dyes  with  its  purest  gold, 
And  the  soul  mounts  up  through  that  gateway  fair 
To  try  its  wings  in  a  loftier  air! 
The  finger  of  God  on  my  brow  is  pressed — 
His  spirit  beats  in  my  giant  breast, 
And  I  breathe,  as  the  endless  ages  roll, 
His  silent  words  to  the  eager  soul! 
I  prompt  the  thoughts  of  the  mighty  mind, 
Who  leaves  his  century  far  bohind 
And  speaks  from  the  Future's  sun -lit  snow 
To  the  Present,  that  sleeps  in  its  gloom  belowl 
I  stand,  unchanged,  in  creation's  youth — 
A  glorious  type  of  Eternal  Truth, 


DESCEXT  OF  THE   TICINO.  2& 

That,  free  and  pure,  from  its  native  skies 
Shines  through  Oppression's  veil  of  lies, 
And  lights  the  world's  long-fettered  sod 
With  thoughts  of  Freedom  and  of  God! 

When,  at  night,  I  looked  out  of  my  chamber, 
window,  the  silver  moon  of  Italy,  (for  we  fancied 
that  her  light  was  softer  and  that  the  skies 
were  already  bluer)  hung  trembling  above  the 
fields  of  snow  that  stretched  in  their  wintry  bril- 
liance along  the  mountains  around.  I  heard 
the  roar  of  the  Ticino  and  the  deepened  sound 
of  falling  cascades,  and  thought,  if  I  were  to 
take  those  waters  for  my  guide,  to  what  glori- 
ous places  they  would  lead  me! 

We  left  Airolo  early  the  next  morning,  to  con- 
tinue our  journey  down  the  valley  of  the  Ticino. 
The  mists  and  clouds  of  Switzerland  were  ex- 
changed for  a  sky  of  the  purest  blue,  and  we  felt, 
for  the  first  time  in  ten  days,  uncomfortably 
warm.  The  mountains  which  flank  the  Alps  on 
this  side,  a>.  e  still  giants — lofty  and  bare,  and 
covered  with  snow  in  many  places.  The  limit  of 
the  German  dialect  is  on  the  summit  of  St. 
Gothard,  and  the  peasants  saluted  us  with  a 
"  buon  giorno,"  as  they  passed.  This,  with  the 
clearness  of  the  skies  and  the  warmth  of  the  air, 
made  us  feel  that  Italy  was  growing  nearer. 

The  mountains  are  covered  with  forests  of 
dark  pine,  and  many  beautiful  cascades  come 
tumbling  over  the  rocks  in  their  haste  to  join 
the  Ticino.  One  of  these  was  so  strangely  beau- 
tiful, that  I  cannot  pass  it  without  a  particular 
description.  We  saw  it  soon  after  leaving  Airolo, 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  valley.  A  stream  of 
considerable  size  comes  down  the  mountain, 
leaping  from  crag  to  crag  till  within  forty  or 
fifty  feet  of  the  bottom,  where  it  is  caught  in  a 
hollow  rock,  and  flung  upwards  into  the  air, 
forming  a  beautiful  arch  ns  it  falls  out  into  the 
valley.  As  it  is  whirled  up  thus,  feathery  curls 
'/f  spray  are  constantly  driven  off  and  seem  to 


28<J  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

•wave  round  it  like  the  fibres  on  an  ostrich  plume. 
The  sun  shining  through,  gave  it  a  sparry  bril- 
liance which  was  perfectly  magnificent.  If  I  were 
an  artist,  I  would  give  much  for  such  a  new  form 
of  beauty. 

On  our  first  day's  journey  we  passed  through 
two  terrific  mountain  gorges,  almost  equalling 
in  grandeur  the  defile  of  the  "Devil's  Bridge. 
The  Ticino,  in  its  course  to  Lago  Maggiore  has 
to  make  a  descent  of  nearly  three  thousand  feet, 
passing  through  three  valleys,  which  lie  like  ter- 
races, one  below  the  other.  In  its  course  from 
one  to  the  other,  it  has  to  force  its  wny  down  in 
twenty  cataracts  through  a  cleft  in  the  mount- 
ains. The  road,  constructed  with  the  utmost 
labor,  threads  these  dark  chasms,  sometimes 
carried  in  a  tunnel  through  the  rock,  sometimes 
passing  on  arches  above  the  boiling  flood.  The 
precipices  of  bare  rock  rise  far  above  and  render 
the  way  difficult  and  dangerous.  I  here  noticed 
another  very  beautiful  effect  of  the  water,  per- 
haps attributable  to  some  mineral  substance  it 
contained.  The  spray  and  foam  thrown  up  in 
the  dashing  of  the  vexed  current,  was  of  a  light, 
delicate  pink,  although  the  stream  itself  was  a 
soft  blue ;  and  the  contrast  of  these  two  colors 
was  very  remarkable. 

As  we  kept  on,  however,  there  was  a  very  per- 
ceptible  change  in  the  scenery.  The  gloomy 
pines  disappeared  and  the  mountains  were  cov- 
ered in  their  stead,  with  picturesque  chestnut 
trees,  with  leaves  of  a  shining  green.  The  grass 
and  vegetation  was  much  more  luxuriant  than 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Alps,  and  fields  of  maize 
and  mulberry  orchards  covered  the  valley.  We 
saw  the  people  busy  at  work  reeling  silk  in  the 
villages.  Every  mile  we  advanced  made  a  sensi- 
ble change  in  the  vegetation.  The  chestnuts 
were  larger,  the  niiii/c  higher,  the  few  straggling 
grape-vines  increased  into  bowers  and  vineyards, 
while  the  gardens  were  filled  with  plum,  pea,r  and 


SWfSS   VINETARDS.  28? 

fig-trees,  and  the  stands  of  delicious  fruit  which 
we  saw  in  the  villages,  gave  us  promise  of  the 
luxuriance  that  was  to  come.  The  vineyards  are 
much  more  beautiful  than  the  German  fields  of 
stakes.  The  vines  are  not  trimmed,  but  grow 
from  year  to  year  over  a  frame  higher  than  the 
head,  supported  through  the  whole  field  on  stone 
pillars.  They  interlace  and  form  a  complete 
leafy  screen,  while  the  clusters  hang  below.  The 
light  came  dimly  through  the  green,  transparent 
leaves,  and  nothing  was  wanting  to  make  them 
real  bo\vers  of  Arcadia.  Although  we  were  still 
in  Switzerland,  the  people  began  to  have  that 
lazy,  indolent  look  which  characterizes  the  Ital- 
ians ;  most  of  the  occupations  were  carried  on 
in  the  open  air,  and  brown-robed,  sandalled 
friars  were  going  about  from  house  to  house, 
collecting  money  and  provisions  for  their  sup- 
port. 

We  passed  Faido  and  Giornico,  near  whichlast 
village  are  the  remains  of  an  old  castle,  supposed 
to  have  been  built  by  the  ancient  Gauls,  and 
stopped  for  the  night  at  Cresciano,  which  being 
entirely  Italian,  we  had  an  opportunity  to  put 
in  practice  the  few  words  we  had  picked  up  from 
Pietro.  The  little  fellow  parted  from  us  with  re- 
gret a  few  hours  before,  at  Biasco,  where  he  had 
relations.  The  rustic  landlord  at  Cresciano  was 
an  honest  young  fellow,  who  tried  to  serve  us  as 
well  as  he  could,  but  we  made  some  ludicrous 
mistakes  through  our  ignorance  of  the  lan- 
guage. 

Three  hours'  walk  brought  us  to  Bellinzona. 
the  capital  of  the  canton.  Before  reaching  it, 
our  road  joined  that  of  the  Spliigen  which 
comes  down  through  the  valley  of  Bernardino. 
From  the  bridge  where  the  junction  takes  place 
we  had  a  triple  view,  whose  grandeur  took  me 
by  surprise,  even  after  coming  from  Switzerland. 
We  stood  at  the  union  of  three  valleys — that 
leading  to  St.  Gothard,  terminated  by  the 


S88  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

glaciers  of  the  Bernese  Oberland,  that  miming 
off  obliquely  to  the  Spliigen,  and  finally  the 
broad  vale  of  the  Ticino,  extending  to  La  go 
Maggiore,  whose  purple  mountains  closed  the 
vista.  Each  valley  was  perhaps  two  miles 
broad  and  from  twenty  to  thirty  long,  and  the 
mountains  that  enclosed  them  from  five  to 
seven,  thousand  feet  in  height,  so  you  may  per- 
haps form  some  idea  what  a  view  down  three 
such  avenues  in  this  Alpine  temple  would  be. 
Bellinzona  is  romantically  situated,  on  a  slight 
eminence,  with  three  castles  to  defend  it,  with 
those  square  turreted  towers  and  battlements, 
which  remind  one  involuntarily  of  the  days  of 
the  Goths  and  Vandals. 

We  left  Bellinzona  at  noon,  and  saw,  soon 
after,  from  an  eminence,  the  blue  line  of  La  go 
Maggiore  stretched  across  the  bottom  of  the 
valley.  We  saw  sunset  fade  away  over  the  lake. 
but  it  was  clouded,  and  did  not  realize  my  ideal 
of  such  a  scene  in  Italy.  A  band  of  wild  Italians 
paraded  up  and  down  the  village,  drawing  one 
of  their  number  in  a  hand-cart.  They  made  a 
great  noise  with  a  drum  and  trumpet,  and  were 
received  everywhere  with  shouts  of  laughter.  .\ 
great  jug  of  wine  was  not  wanting,  and  the 
Whole  seemed  to  me  a  very  characteristic  scene. 

We  were  early  aAvakened  at  Magadino,  at  the 
head  of  Lago  Maggiore,  and  after  swallowing  a 
hasty  breakfast,  went  on  board  the  steamboat 
"San  Carlo,"  for  Sesto  Calende.  We  got  under 
way  at  six  o'clock,  and  were  soon  in  motion 
over  the  cystal  mirror.  The  water  is  of  the 
most  lovely  green  hue,  and  so  transparent  that 
we  seemed  to  be  floating  in  mid-air.  Another 
heaven  arched  far  below  us;  other  chains  of 
mountains  joined  their  bases  to  those  which 
surrounded  the  lake,  and  the  mirrored  cascades 
leaped  upward  to  meet  their  originals  at  the  sur- 
face. It  may  be  because  I  have  seen  it  more  re- 
cently, that  the  water  of  Lago  Maggiore  appears 


AN  ITALIAN  LAKE.  289 

to  be  the  most  beautiful  in  the  world.  I  was  de- 
lighted with  the  Scotch  lakes,  and  enraptured 
with  the  Traunsee  and  "Zurich's  waters,"  but 
this  hi st  exceeds  them  both.  I  am  now  incapable 
of  any  stronger  feeling,  until  I  see  theEgean  frovr 
the  Grecian  Isles. 

The  morning  was  cloudy,  and  the  white  wreaths 
hung  low  on  the  mountains,  whose  rocky  sides 
were  covered  every  where  with  the  rank  and  lux- 
uriant growth  of  this  climate.  As  we  advanced 
further  over  this  glorious  mirror,  the  houses  be' 
came  more  Italian-like ;  the  lower  stories  rested 
on  arched  passages,  and  the  windows  were  open, 
without  glass,  while  in  the  gardens  stood  the 
solemn,  graceful  cypress,  and  vines,  heavy  with 
ripening  grapes,  hung  from  bough  to  bough 
through  the  mulberry  orchards .  Half-way  down , 
in  a  broad  bay,  which  receives  the  waters  of  a 
stream  that  comes  down  with  the  Simplon,  are 
the  celebrated  Borromean  Islands.  They  are 
four  in  number,  and  seem  to  float  like  fairy  crea- 
tions on  the  water,  while  the  lofty  hills  form  a 
background  whose  grandeur  enhances  by  con- 
trast their  exquisite  beauty.  There  was  some- 
thing in  the  scene  that  reminded  me  of  Claude 
Melnotte's  description  of  his  home,  by  Bulwer, 
and  like  the  lady  of  Lyons,  I  answer  readily,  "1 
like  the  picture." 

On  passing  by  Isola  Madre,  we  could  see  the 
roses  in  its  terraced  gardens  and  the  broad- 
leaved  aloes  clinging  to  the  rocks.  Isola  Bella, 
the  loveliest  of  them  all,  as  its  name  denotes,  was 
farther  off;  it  rose  like  a  pyramid  from  the  water, 
terrace  above  terrace  to  the  summit,  and  its 
gardens  of  never  fading  foliage,  with  the  glori- 
ous pa.nprama  around,  might  make  it  a  para- 
dise, if  life  were  to  be  dreamed  away.  On  the 
northern  side  of  the  bay  lies  a  largo  town  (1 
forget  the  name,)  with  a  lofty  Romanesque 
tower,  and  noble  mountains  sweep  around  as  if 
to  slvu'o  out  the  world  from  such  a  scene.  The 


200  VIEWS  A -FOOT. 

sea  was  perfectly  calm,  and  groves  and  gardens 
slept  mirrored  in  the  dark  green  wave,  while  tho 
Alps  rose  afar  through  the  dim,  cloudy  air. 
Towards  the  other  end  the  hills  sink  lower,  and 
slope  off  into  the  plains  of  Lombardy.  Near 
Arona,  on  the  western  side,  is  a  large  monastery, 
overlooking  the  lower  part  of  the  lake.  Beside 
it,  on  a  hill,  is  a  colossal  statue  of  San  Carlo 
Borromeo,  who  gave  his  name  to  the  lovely  isl- 
ands above. 

After  a  seveu  hours'  passage,  we  ran  into  Sesto 
Calende,  at  the  foot  of  the  lake.  Here  passen- 
gers and  baggage  were  tumbled  promiscuously 
on  shore,  the  latter  gathered  into  the  office 
to  be  examined,  and  the  former  left  at  liberty  to 
ramble  about  an  hour  until  their  passports 
could  be  signed.  We  employed  the  time  in  try  • 
ing  the  flavor  of  the  grapes  and  peaches  ot 
Lombardy,  and  looking  at  the  groups  of  travel- 
lers who  had  come  down  from  the  Alps  with  the 
annual  avalanche  at  this  season.  The  custom 
house  officers  were  extremely  civil  and  obliging, 
as  they  did  not  think  necessary  to  examine  our 
knapsacks,  and  our  passports  being  soon  signed, 
ive  were  at  liberty  to  enter  again  into  the  do- 
minions of  His  Majesty  of  Austria.  Our  com- 
panion, the  German,  whose  feet  could  carry  him 
no  further,  took  a  seat  on  the  top  of  a  diligence 
for  Milan;  we  left  Sesto  Calende  on  foot,  and 
plunged  into  the  cloud  of  dust  which  was  whirl- 
ing towards  the  capital  of  Northern  Italy. 

Being  now  really  in  the  "sunny  land,"  we 
looked  on  the  scenery  with  a  deep  interest.  The 
first  thing  that  struck  me  was  a  resemblance  to 
America  in  the  fields  of  Indian  corn,  and  the  rank 
growth  of  weeds  by  the  roadside.  The  mulberry 
trees  and  hedges,  too,  looked  quite  familiar,  com- 
ing as  we  did,  from  fenceless  and  hedgeless  Ger- 
many. But  here  the  resemblance  ceased.  The 
people  were  coarse,  ignorant  and  savage-looking, 
villages  remarkable  for  nothing  except  the 


A  CHEATING  LANDLORD.  291 

contrast  between  splendid  churches  and  misera- 
ble, dirty  houses,  while  the  luxurious  palaces  and 
grounds  of  the  rich  noblemen  formed  a  still 
greater  contrast  to  the  poverty  of  the  people. 
I  noticed  also  that  if  the  latter  are  as  lazy  as  they 
are  said  to  be,  they  make  their  horses  work  for 
them,  as  in  a  walk  of  a  few  hours  yesterday 
afternoon,  we  saw  two  horses  drawing  heavy 
loads,  drop  down  apparently  dead,  and  several 
others  seemed  nearly  ready  to  do  the  same. 

We  spent  the  night  at  the  little  village  of  Ca- 
eina,  about  sixteen  miles  from  Milan,  and  here 
made  our  first  experience  in  the  honesty  of  Ital- 
ian inns.  We  had  taken  the  precaution  to  in- 
quire beforehand  the  price  of  a  bed;  but  it 
seemed  unnecessary  and  unpleasant,  as  well  as 
evincing  a  mistrustful  spirit,  to  do  the  same  with 
every  article  we  asked  for,  so  we  concluded  to 
leave  it  to  the  host's  conscience  not  to  over- 
charge us.  Imagine  our  astonisment,  how- 
ever, when  at  starting,  a  bill  was  presented  to 
us,  in  which  the  smallest  articles  were  set  down 
at  three  or  four  times  their  value.  We  remon- 
strated, but  to  little  purpose;  the  fellow  knew 
scarcely  any  French,  and  we  as  little  Italian,  so 
rather  than  lose  time  or  temper,  we  paid' what  he 
demanded  and  went  on,  leaving  him  to  laugh  at 
the  successful  imposition.  The  experience  was  of 
value  to  us,  however,  and  it  may  serve  as  a  warn- 
ing to  some  future  traveller. 

About  noon,  the  road  turned  into  a  broad  and 
beautiful  avenue  of  poplars,  down  which  we  saw, 
at  a  distance,  the  triumphal  arch  terminatiiig  the 
Simplon  road,  which  we  had  followed  from  Sesto 
Calende.  Beyond  it  rose  the  slight  and  airy  pin- 
acle  of  the  Duomo.  We  passed  by  the  exquisite 
structure,  gave  up  our  passports  at  the  gates, 
traversed  the  broad  Piazza  d'Armi,  and  found 
ourselves  at  liberty  to  choose  one  of  the  dozes 
streets  that  led  into  the  heart  of  the  city. 
10 


21)2  YIVWS  A-FQO't. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

MILAN. 

Aug.  21. — While  finding  our  way  at  random  to 
the  "Pension  Suisse,"  whither  we  had  been  di- 
rected by  a  German  gentleman,  we  were  agreea- 
bly impressed  with  the  gaiety  and  bustle  of 
Milan.  The  shops  and  stores  are  all  open  to  the 
street,  so  that  the  city  resembles  a  great  bazaar. 
It  has  an  odd  look  to  see  blacksmiths,  tailors, 
and  shoemakers  working  unconcernedly  in  the 
open  air,  with  crowds  continually  passing  before 
them.  The  streets  are  filled  with  venders  of  fruit, 
who  call  out  the  names  with  a  long,  distressing 
cry,  like  that  of  a  person  in  great  agony.  Organ- 
grinders  parade  constantly  about  and  snatches 
of  songs  are  heard  among  the  gay  crowd,  on 
every  side. 

In  this  lively,  noisy  Italian  city,  nearly  all 
there  is  to  see  may  be  comprised  in  four  things : 
the  Duomo,  the  triumphal  arch  over  the  Simplon, 
La  Scala  and  the  Picture  Gallery.  The  first 
alone  is  more  interesting  than  many  an  entire 
city.  We  went  there  yesterday  afternoon  soon 
after  reaching  here.  It  stands  in  an  irregular 
open  place,  closely  hemmed  in  by  houses  on  two 
sides,  so  that  it  can  be  seen  to  advantage  from 
only  one  point.  It  is  a  mixture  of  the  Gothic 
and  Romanesque  styles ;  the  body  of  the  struct- 
ure is  entirely  covered  with  statues  and  richly 
wrought  sculpture,  with  needle-like  spires  of 
white  marble  rising  up  from  every  corner.  But 
of  the  exquisite,  airy  look  of  the  whole  mass, 
although  so  solid  and  vast,  it'  is  impossible  to 
ppuvey  an  idea.  It  appears  like  some  fabric  of 


THE  DUOMO  OF  MILAN.  29i 

frost-work  which  winter  traces  on  the  window- 
panes.  There  is  a  unity  of  beauty  about  the 
whole,  which  the  eye  takes  in  with  a  feeling  of 
perfect  and  satisfied  delight. 

Ascending  the  marble  steps  which  lead  to  the 
front,  I  lifted  the  folds  of  the  heavy  curtain  and 
entered.  What  a  glorious  aisle!  The  mighty 
pillars  support  a  magnificent  arched  ceiling, 
painted  to  resemble  fretwork,  and  the  little  light 
that  falls  through  the  small  windows  above, 
enters  tinged  with  a  dim  golden  hue.  A  feeling 
of  solemn  awe  comes  Over  one  as  he  steps  with 
a  hushed  tread  along  the  colored  marble  floor 
and  measures  the  massive  columns  till  they  blend 
with  the  gorgeous  arches  above.  There  are  four 
rows  of  these,  nearly  fifty  in  all,  and  when  I  state 
that  they  are  eight  feet  in  diameter,  and  sixty  or 
seventy  in  height,  some  idea  may  be  formed  of 
the  grandeur  of  the  building.  Imagine  the 
Girard  College,  at  Philadelphia,  turned  into  one 
great  hall,  with  four  rows  of  pillars,  equal  in 
size  to  those  around  it,  reaching  to  its  roof,  and 
you  will  have  a  rough  sketch  of  the  interior  of 
the  Duomo. 

In  the  centre  ofthe  cross  is  a  light  and  beauti- 
ful dome;  he  who  will  stand  under  this,  and  look 
down  the  broad  middle  aisle  to  the  entrance,  has 
one  of  the  sublimest  vistas  to  be  found  in  the 
world.  The  choir  has  three  enormous  windows, 
covered  with  dazzling  paintings,  and  the  ceiling 
is  of  marble  and  silver.  There  are  gratings 
under  the  high  altar,  by  looking  into  which, 
I  could  see  a  dark,  lonely  chamber  below, 
where  one  or  two  feeble  lamps  showed  a  circle  oi 
praying-places.  It  was  probably  a.  funeral  vault, 
which  persons  visited  to  pray  for  the  repose  01 
their  friends'  souls.  The  Duomo  is  not  yet  en- 
tirely finished,  the  workmen  bein/r still  employed 
in  various  parts,  but  it  is  said,  That  when  com- 
pleted there  will  be  four  thousand  statues  on  the 
different  parts  of  it. 


#4  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

The  design  of  the  Duomo  is  said  to  bo  taKen 
from  Monte  Rosa,  one  of  the  loftiest  peaks  of 
the  Alps.  Its  hundreds  of  sculptured  pinnacles, 
rising  from  every  part  of  the  body  of  the  church, 
certainly  bear  a  striking  resemblance  to  the 
splintered  ice-crags  of  Savoy.  Thus  we  see  how 
Art,  mighty  and  endless  in  her  forms  though  she 
be,  is  in  every  thing  but  the  child  of  Nature. 
Her  most  divine  conceptions  are  but  copies  of 
objects  which  we  behold  every  day.  The  fault- 
less beauty  of  the  Corinthian  capital — the  spring- 
ing and  intermingling  arches  of  the  Gothic  aisle 
— the  pillared  portico  or  the  massive  and  sky- 
piercing  pyramid — are  but  attempts  at  repro- 
ducing, by  the  studied  regularity  of  Art,  the 
ever-varied  and  ever-beautiful  forms  of  mount- 
ain, rock  and  forest.  But  there  is  oftentimes  a 
more  thrilling  sensation  of  enjoyment  produced 
by  the  creations  of  man's  hand  and  intellect 
than  the  grander  effects  of  Nature,  existing  con- 
stantly  before  our  eyes.  It  would  seem  as  if 
man  marvelled  more  at  his  own  work  than  at 
the  work  of  the  Power  which  created  him. 

The  streets  of  Milan  abound  with  priests  in 
their  cocked  hats  and  long  black  robes.  They 
all  have  the  same  solemn  air,  and  seem  to  go 
about  like  beings  shut  out  from  all  communion 
with  pleasure.  No  sight  lately  has  saddened  me 
so  much  as  to  see  a  bright,  beautiful  boy,  of 
twelve  or  thirteen  years,  in  those  gloomy  gar- 
ments. Poor  child!  he  little  knows  now  what 
he  may  have  to  endure.  A  lonely,  cheerless  life, 
where  every  affection  must  be  crushed  as  unholy, 
and  every  pleasure  denied  as  a  crime!  And  I 
knew  by  his  fair  brow  and  tender  lip,  that  he 
had  a  warm  and  loving  heart.  I  could  not  help 
regarding  this  class  as  victims  to  a  mistaken 
idea  of  religious  duty,  and  if  I  am  not  mistaken, 
I  read  on  more  than  one  countenance  the  ti 
of  passions  that  burned  within.  It  is  mournful 
to  see  a  people  oppressed  in  the  name  of  religion. 


MUSIC  IN  MILAN.  295 

The  holiest  aspirations  of  man's  nature,  instead 
of  lifting  him  up  to  a  nearer  view  of  Christian 
perfection,  are  changed  into  clouds  and  shut  out 
the  light  of  heaven .  Immense  treasures,  wrung 
drop  by  drop  from  the  credulity  of  the  poor  and 
ignorant,  are  made  use  of  to  pamper  the  luxury 
of  those  who  profess  to  be  mediators  between 
man  and  the  Deity.  The  poor  wretch  may  per- 
ish of  starvation  on  a  floor  of  precious  mosaic, 
which  perhaps  his  own  pittance  has  helped  to 
form,  while  ceilings  and  shrines  of  inlaid  gold 
mock  his  dying  eye  with  thejr  useless  splendor. 
Such  a  system  of  oppression ,  disguised  under 
the  holiest  name,  can  only  be  sustained  by  the 
continuance  of  ignorance  and  blind  superstition. 
Knowledge — Truth — Reason— these  are  the  ram- 
parts which  Liberty  throws  up  to  guard  her 
dominions  from  the  usurpations  of  oppression 
and  wrong. 

We  were  last  night  in  La  Scala.  Rossini's 
opera  of  William  Tell  was  advertised,  and  as  we 
had  visited  so  lately  the  scene  where  that  glori- 
ous historical  drama  was  enacted,  we  went  to 
see  it  represented  in  sound.  It  is  a  grand  sub- 
ject, which  in  the  hands  of  a  powerful  composer, 
might  be  made  very  effective,  but  I  must  confess 
I  was  disappointed  in  the  present  case.  The 
overture  is,  however,  very  beautiful.  It  begins 
low  and  mournful,  like  the  lament  of  the  Swiss 
over  their  fallen  liberties.  Occasionally  a  low 
drum  is  heard,  as  if  to  rouse  them  to  action, 
and  meanwhile  the  lament  swells  to  a  cry  of  de- 
spair. The  drums  now  wake  the  land ;  the  horn 
of  Uri  is  heard  pealing  forth  its  summoning 
strain,  and  the  echoes  seem  to  come  back  from 
the  distant  Alps.  The  sound  then  changes  foi 
the  roar  of  battle — tho  clang  of  trumpets,  drums 
and  cymbals.  The  whole  orchestra  did  theii 
best  to  represent  this  combat  in  music,  which 
after  lasting  a  short  time,  changed  into  the  loud, 
victorious  march  of  the  conquerors.  But  the 


295  VIEWS   A-FOOT. 

body  of  the  opera,  although  it  had  several  Une 
passages,  was  to  me  devoid  of  interest ;  in  fact, 
unworthy  the  reputation  of  Rossini. 

The  theatre  is  perhaps  the  largest  in  the  world. 
The  singers  are  all  good ;  in  Italy  it  could  not  be 
otherwise,  where  everybody  sings.  As  I  wrifa1,  a 
party  of  Italians  in  the  house  opposite  have  been 
amusing  themselves  with  going  through  the 
whole  opera  of  "La  fille  du  Regiment"  with  the 
accompaniment  of  the  piano,  and  they  show  the 
greatest  readiness  and  correctness  in  their  per- 
formance. They  have  now  become  somewhat 
boisterous,  and  appear  to  be  improvising.  One 
young  gentleman  executes  trills  with  amazing 
skill,  and  an  other  appears  to  have  taken  the  part 
of  a  despairing  lover,  but  the  lady  has  a  very 
pretty  voice,  and  warbles  on  and  on,  like  a  night- 
ingale. Occasionally  a  group  of  listeners  in  the 
street  below  clap  them  applause,  for  as  the  win 
dows  are  always  open,  the  whole  neighborhood 
can  enjoy  the  performance. 

This  forenoon  I  was  in  the  Picture  Gallery.  It 
occupies  a  part  of  the  Library  Building,  in  the 
Palazzo  Cabrera.  It  is  not  large,  and  many  of 
the  pictures  are  of  no  value  to  anybody  but  an- 
tiquarians; still  there  are  some  excellent  paint- 
ings, which  render  it  well  worthy  a  visit.  Among 
these,  a  marriage,  by  Raphael,  is  still  in  a  very 
good  state  of  preservation,  and  there  are  some 
fine  pictures  by  Paul  Veronese  and  the  Caracci. 
The  most  admired  painting,  is  "Abraham  send- 
ing away  Hagar,  "  by  Guercino.  I  never  saw  a 
more  touching  expression  of  grief  than  in  the  face 
of  Hagar.  Her  eyes  are  red  with  weeping,  and  as 
she  listens  in  an  agony  of  tears  to  the  patriarch's 
command,  she  still  seems  doubting  the  reality  of 
her  doom.  The  countenance  of  Abraham  is  ven- 
erable and  calm,  and  expresses  little  emotion; 
but  one  can  read  in  that  of  Sarah,  as  she  turns 
away,  a  feeling  of  pity  for  her  unfortunate  rival. 

Nest  to  the  Duomo,  the  most  beautiful  sped- 


THE  ARCH  OF  PEACE.  29) 

men  of  architecture  in  Milan  is  the  ARCH  OF  PEACE, 
on  the  north  side  of  the  city,  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  Simplon  Road.  It  was  the  intention 
of  Napoleon  to  carry  the  road  under  this  arch, 
across  the  Piazza  d'  Armi,  and  to  cut  a  way  for 
it  directly  into  the  heart  of  the  city,  but  the  fall 
of  his  dynasty  prevented  the  execution  of  this 
magnificent  design,  as  well  as  the  completion  of 
the  arch  itself.  This  has  been  done  by  the  Aus- 
trian government,  according  to  the  original  plan ; 
they  have  inscribed  upon  it  the  name  of  Francis 
I.,  and  changed  the  bas-reliefs  of  Lodi  and  Ma- 
rengo  into  those  of  a  few  fields  where  their  forces 
had  gained  the  victory.  It  is  even  said  that  in 
many  parts  wiiich  were  already  finished,  tuey  al- 
tered the  splendid  Roman  profile  of  Napoleon  in- 
to the  haggard  and  repulsive  features  of  Francis 
of  Austria. 

The  bronze  statues  on  the  top  were  made  by  an 
artist  of  Bologna,  by  Napoleon's  order,  and  are 
said  to  be  the  finest  works  of  modern  times.  In 
the  centre  is  the  goddess  of  Peace,  in  a  triumphal 
car,  drawn  by  six  horses,  while  on  the  corners 
four  angels,  mounted,  are  starting  off  to  convey 
the  tidings  to  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe. 
The  artist  has  caught  the  spirit  of  motion  and 
chained  it  in  these  moveless  figures.  One  would 
hardly  feel  surprised  if  the  goddess,  chariot, 
horses  and  all,  were  to  start  off  and  roll  away 
through  the  air. 

With  the  rapidity  usual  to  Americans  we  havo 
already  finished  seeing  Milan,  and  shall  start  ta 
morrow  morning  on  a  walk  to  Genoa* 


VIEWS  A- FOOT. 


CHAPTER 

WALK  FROM  MILAN  TO  GENOA. 

It  was  finally  decided  we  should  leave  Milan,  so 
the  next  morning  we  arose  at  five  o'clock  for  the 
first  time  since  leaving  Frankfort.  The  Italians 
had  commenced  operations  at  this  early  hour, 
but  we  made  our  way  through  the  streets  with- 
out attracting  quite  so  much  attention  as  on 
our  arrival.  Is  ear  the  gate  on  the  road  to  Pa  \  i ;  i , 
we  passed  a  long  colonnade  which  was  certainly 
as  old  as  the  times  of  the  Romans.  The  pillars 
of  marble  were  quite  brown  with  age,  and  bound 
together  with  iron  to  keep  them  from  falling  to 
pieces.  It  was  a  striking  contrast  to  see  this 
relic  of  the  past  standing  in  the  middle  of  a 
crowded  thoroughfare  and  surrounded  by  all  the 
brilliance  and  display  of  modern  trade. 

Once  fairly  out  of  the  cit\*  we  took  the  road  to 
Pavia,  along  the  banks  of  the  canal,  just  as  the 
rising  sun  gilded  the  marble  spire  of  the  Duomo. 
The  country  was  a  perfect  level,  and  the  canal, 
which  was  in  many  places  higher  than  the  land 
through  which  it  passed,  served  also  as  a  means 
of  irrigation  for  the  many  rice-fields.  The  sky 
grew  cloudy  and  dark,  and  before  we  rear-linl 
Pavia  gathered  to  a  heavy  storm.  Torrents  of 
rain  poured  down,  accompanied  with  heavy 
thunder;  we  crept  under  an  old  gateway  for 
shelter,  as  no  house  was  Hear.  Finally,  as  it 
cleared  away,  the  square  brown  towers  of  the 
old  city  rose  above  the  trees,  and  we  entered  the 
gate  through  a  fine  shaded  avenue.  Our  pass- 
ports were  of  course  demanded,  but  we  were 
only  detained  a  minute  ™*  two.  The  only  thing 


WALKING  IN  LOMBARD?.  2S? 

of  interest  is  the  University,  formerly  ro  cele* 
brated;  it  has  at  present  about  eight  hundred* 
students. 

We  have  reason  to  remember  the  city  from 
another  circumstance — the  singular  attention  w<" 
excited.  I  doubt  if  Columbus  was  an  object  of 
greater  curiosity  to  the  simple  natives  of  the  new 
world,  than  we  three  Americans  were  to  th*> 
good  people  of  Pavia.  I  know  not  what  part  of 
our  dress  or  appearance  could  have  caused  it> 
but  we  were  watched  like  wild  animals.  If  we 
happened  to  pause  and  look  at  anything  in  the 
street,  there  was  soon  a  crowd  of  attentive 
observers,  and  as  we  passed  on,  every  door  and 
window  was  full  of  heads.  We  stopped  in  the 
market-place  to  purchase  some  bread  and  fruif 
for  dinner,  which  increased,  if  possible,  the  sensa- 
tion. We  saw  eyes  staring  and  fingers  pointing 
at  us  from  every  door  and  alley.  I  am  general!/ 
willing  to  contribute  as  much  as  possible  t<? 
the  amusement  or  entertainment  of  others,  bu*. 
such  attention  was  absolutely  embarrassing- 
There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  appear  un- 
conscious of  it,  and  we  went  along  with  a? 
much  nonchalance  as  if  the  whole  town  be- 
longed to  us. 

We  crossed  the  Ticino,  on  whose  banks  nea\ 
Pavia,  was  fought  the  first  great  battle  between 
Hannibal  and  the  Romans.  On  the  other  side 
our  passports  were  demanded  at  the  Sardinian 
frontier  and  our  knapsacks  searched,  which  hav- 
ing proved  satisfactory,  we  were  allowed  to  en- 
ter the  kingdom.  Late  in  the  afternoon  we 
reached  the  Po,  which  in  winter  must  be  quarter 
of  a  mile  wide,  but  the  summer  heats  had  dried 
it  up  to  a  small  stream,  so  that  the  bridge  of 
boats  rested  nearly  its  Avhole  length  in  sand. 
We  sat  on  the  bank  in  the  shade,  and  looked  at 
the  chain  of  hills  which  rose  in  the  south,  follow- 
ing the  course  of  the  Po,  crowned  with  castles 
and  villages  and  shining  towers.  It  was  here 


SOO  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

that  I  first  began  to  realize  Italian  scenery.  AL 
though  the  hills  were  bare,  they  lay  so  warm 
and  glowing  in  the  sunshine,  and  the  deep  blue 
sky  spread  so  calmly  above,  that  it  recalled 
all  my  dreams  of  the  fair  clime  we  had  entered. 

We  stopped  for  the  night  at  the  little  village 
of  Casteggio,  which  lies  at  the  foot  of  the  hills, 
and  next  morning  resumed  our  pilgrimage. 
Here  a  new  delight  awaited  us.  The  sky  was  of 
a  heavenly  blue,  without  even  the  shadow  of  a 
cloud,  and  full  and  fair  in  the  morning  sun- 
shine we  could  see  the  whole  range  of  the 
Alps,  from  the  blue  hills  of  Friuli,  which  sweep 
down  to  Venice  and  the  Adriatic,  to  the  lofty 
peaks  which  stretch  away  to  Nice  and  Marseilles  I 
Like  a  summer  cloud,  except  that  they  were  far 
more  dazzling  and  glorious,  lay  to  the  north  of 
us  the  glaciers  and  untrodden  snow-fields  of  the 
Bernese  Oberland;  a  little  to  the  right  we  saw 
the  double  peak  of  St.  Gothard,  where  six  daya 
before  we  shivered  in  the  region  of  eternal  win- 
ter, while  far  to  the  north-west  rose  the  giant 
dome  of  Mount  Blanc.  Monte  Rosa  stood  near 
him,  not  far  from  the  Great  St.  Bernard,  and 
further  to  the  south  Mont  Cenis  guarded  the  en- 
trance  from  Piedmont  into  France.  I  leave  you 
to  conceive  the  majesty  of  such  a  scene,  and  you 
may  perhaps  imagine,  for  I  cannot  describe  the 
feelings  with  which  I  gazed  upon  it. 

At  Tortona,  the  next  post,  a  great  market 
was  being  held ;  the  town  was  filled  with  country 
people  selling  their  produce,  and  with  venders  of 
wares  of  all  kinds.  Fruit  was  very  abundant — 
grapes,  ripe  figs,  peaches  and  melons  were 
abundant,  and  for  a  trifle  one  could  purchase  a 
sumptuous  banquet.  On  inquiring  the  road  to 
No vi,  the  people  made  us  understand,  after  much 
difficulty,  that  there  was  a  nearer  way  across 
the  country,  which  came  into  the  post-road 
again,  and  we  concluded  to  take  it.  After  two 
or  three  hours'  walking  in  a  burning  sun,  where 


THE  PLAINS  OF  PIEDMONT.  301 

our  only  relief  was  the  sight  of  the  Alps  and  a 
view  of  the  battle-field  of  Marengo,  which  lay 
just  on  our  right,  we  came  to  a  stand — the  road 
terminated  at  a  large  stream,  where  workmen 
were  busily  engaged  in  making  a  bridge  across. 
We  pulled  off  our  boots  and  waded  through, 
took  a  refreshing  bath  in  the  clear  waters,  and 
walked  on  through  by-lanes.  The  sides  were 
lined  with  luxuriant  vines,  bending  under  the 
ripening  vintage,  and  we  often  cooled  our  thirst 
with  some  of  the  rich  bunches. 

The  large  branch  of  the  Po  we  crossed,  came 
down  from  the  mountains,  which  we  were  ap- 
proaching. As  we  reached  the  post-road  again, 
they  were  glowing  in  the  last  rays  of  the  sun, 
and  the  evening  vapors  that  settled  over  the 
plain  concealed  the  distant  Alps,  although  the 
snowy  top  of  the  Juugfrau  and  her  companions 
the  Wetterhorn  and  Schreckhorn,  rose  above  it 
like  the  hills  of  another  world.  A  castle  or 
church  of  brilliant  white  marble  glittered  on  the 
summit  of  one  of  the  mountains  near  us,  and  as 
the  sun  went  down  without  a  cloud,  the  distant 
summits  changed  in  hue  to  a  glowing  purple, 
amounting  almost  to  crimson,  which  afterwards 
darkened  into  a  deep  violet.  The  western  half 
of  the  sky  was  of  a  pale  orange,  and  the  eastern 
a  dark  red,  which  blended  together  in  the  blue  of 
the  zenith,  that  deepened  as  twilight  came  on.  I 
know  not  if  it  was  a  fair  specimen  of  an  Italian 
sunset,  but  I  must  say,  without  wishing  to  be 
partial,  that  though  certainly  very  -soft  and 
beautiful,  there  is  no  comparison  with  the  splen- 
dor of  such  a  scene  in  America.  The  day-sky  of 
Italy  better  deserves  its  reputation.  Although 
no  clearer  than  our  own,  it  is  of  a  far  brighter 
blue,  arching  above  us  like  a  dome  of  sapphire 
and  seeming  to  sparkle  all  over  with  a  kind  of 
crystal  transparency. 

We  stopped  the  second  night  at  Arquato,  a 
little  village  among  the  mountains,  and  after 


302  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

having  bargained  with  the  merry  landlord  foi 
our  lodgings,  in  broken  Italian,  took  a  last  look 
at  the  plains  of  Piedmont  and  the  Swiss  Alps,  in 
the  growing  twilight.  We  gazed  out  on  the 
darkening  scene  till  the  sky  was  studded  with 
stars,  and  went  to  rest  with  the  exciting  thought 
of  seeing  Genoa  and  the  Mediterranean  on  the 
morrow.  Next  morning  we  started  early,  and 
after  walking  some  distance  made  our  breakfast 
in  a  grove  of  chestnuts,  on  the  cool  mountain 
side,  beside  a  fresh  stream  of  water.  The  sky 
shone  like  a  polished  gem,  and  the  glossy  leaves 
of  the  chestnuts  gleamed  in  the  morning  sun. 
Here  and  there,  on  a  rocky  height,  stood  the  re- 
mains of  some  knightly  castle,  telling  of  the 
Goths  and  Normans  who  descended  through 
these  mountain  passes  to  plunder  Rome. 

As  the  sun  grew  high,  the  heat  and  dust  be- 
came intolerable,  and  this,  in  connection  with 
the  attention  we  raised  everywhere,  made  ua 
somewhat  tired  of  foot-travelling  in  Italy.  I 
verily  believe  the  people  took  us  for  pilgrims  on 
account  of  our  long  white  blouses,  and  had  I  a 
scallop  shell  I  would  certainly  have  stuck  it  into 
my  hat  to  complete  the  appearance.  We  stop- 
ped once  to  ask  a  priest  the  road ;  when  he  had 
told  us,  he  shook  hands  with  us  and  gave  us  a 
parting  benediction.  At  the  common  inns, 
where  we  stopped,  we  always  met  with  civil 
treatment,  though,  indeed,  as  we  only  slept  in 
them,  there  was  little  chance  of  practising  im- 
position. We  boug-ht  our  simple  meals  at  the 
baker's  and  grocer's,  and  ate  them  in  the  shade 
of  the  grape-bowers,  whose  rich  clusters  added 
to  the  repast.  In  this  manner,  we  enjoyed  Itah 
at  the  expense  of  a  franc,  daily.  About  noon,  after 
winding  about  through  the  narrow  defiles,  the 
road  began  ascending.  Tho  reflected  heat  from 
the  hills  on  each  side  made  it  like  an  oven  ;  there 
was  not  a  breath  of  air  stirring;  but  we  all  felt, 
although  110  one  s=aid  it,  tliatTrom  the  summit 


THE  MEDITERRANEAN.  303 

we  could  see  th.>  Mediterranean,  and  we  pushed 
on  as  if  life  or  death  depended  on  it.  Finally, 
the  highest  point  came  in  sight — we  redoubled 
our  exertions,  and  a  few  minutes  more  brought 
us  to  the  top,  breathless  with  fatigue  and  ex- 
pectation. I  glanced  down  the  other  side — there 
li\y  a  real  sea  of  mountains,  all  around;  the 
farthest  peaks  rose  up  afar  and  dim,  crowned 
with  white  towers,  and  between  two  of  them, 
which  stood  apart  like  the  pillars  of  a  gateway, 
we  saw  the  broad  expanse  of  water  stretching 
away  to  the  horizon— 

"To  where  the  blue  of  heaven  on  bluer  waves  shut  down!" 

It  would  have  been  a  thrilling  sight  to  see  any 
ocean,  when  one  has  rambled  thousands  of  miles 
among  the  mountains  and  vales  of  the  inland, 
but  to  behold  this  sea,  of  all  others,  was  glorious 
indeed!  This  sea,  whose  waves  wash  the  feet  of 
Naples,  Constantinople  and  Alexandria,  and 
break  on  the  hoary  shores  where  Troy  and  Tyre 
and  Carthage  have  mouldered  away! — whose 
breast  has  been  furrowed  by  the  keels  of  a  hun- 
dred nations  through  more  than  forty  centuries — 
from  the  first  rude  voyage  of  Jason  and  his  Ar- 
gonauts, to  the  thunders  of  Navarino  that  her- 
alded the  second  birth  of  Greece!  You  cannot 
wonder  we  grew  romantic ;  but  short  space  was 
left  for  sentiment  in  the  burning  sun,  with  Genoa 
to  be  reached  before  night.  The  mountain  we 
crossed  is  called  the  Bochetta,  one  of  the  loftiest 
of  the  sea-Alps  (or  Apennines) — the  road  winds 
steeply  down  towards  the  sea, following  a  broad 
mountain  rivulet,  now  perfectly  dried  up,  as 
nearly  every  stream  among  the  mountains  is.  It 
was  along  way  tons;  the  mountains  seemed  as  if 
they  would  never  unfold  and  let  us  out  dn  the 
shore,  and  our  weary  limits  did  penance  enough 
for  amultitudeof  sins.  The  dusk  \vas  beginning 
to  deepen  over  the  bay  and  the  purple  hues  of  sun- 


304  VIEWS  A- FOOT, 

Bet  -were  dying  away  from  its  amphitheatre  of 
hills,  as  we  came  in  wight  of  the  gorgeous  city. 
Half  the  population  were  out  to  celebrate  a  fes- 
tival, and  we  made  our  entry  in  the  triumphal 
procession  of  some  saint. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

SCENES  IN  GENOA,  LEGHORN  AND  PISA. 

Have  you  ever  seen  some  grand  painting  of  a 
city,  rising  with  its  domes  and  towers  and  pal- 
aces from  the  edge  of  a  glorious  bay,  shut  in  by 
mountains — the  whole  scene  clad  in  those  deep, 
delicious,  sunny  hues  which  you  admire  so  much 
in  the  picture,  although  they  appear  unrealized 
in  nature?  If  so,  you  can  figure  to  yourself 
Genoa,  as  she  looked  to  us  at  sunset,  from  the  bat- 
tlements west  of  the  city.  When  we  had  passed 
through  the  gloomy  gate  of  the  fortress  that 
guards  the  western  promontory,  the  whole  scene 
opened  at  once  on  us  in  all  its  majesty.  It  looked 
to  me  less  like  a  real  landscape  than  a  mighty 
panoramic  painting.  The  battlements  where  we 
were  standing,  and  the  blue  mirror  of  the  Medi- 
terranean just  below,  with  a  few  vessels  moored 
near  the  shore,  made  up  the  foreground ;  just  in 
front  lay  the  queenly  city,  stretching  out  to  the 
eastern  point  of  the  bay.  like  a  great  meteor — 
this  point,  crowned  with  the  towers  and  dome  of 
a  cathedral  representing  the  nucleus,  while  the 
tail  gradually  widened  out  and  was  lost  among 
the  numberless  villas  that  reached  to  the  top  of 
the  mountains  behind.  A  mole  runs  nearly 
across  the  mouth  of  the  harbor,  with  a  tall  light- 
house at  its  extremity,  leaving  only  a  narrow  pas- 
for  vessels,  AsVe  gazed,  a  purple  glow  lay 


A  SAJXT'S  FESTIVAL.  805 

on  the  bosom  of  the  sea,  while  far  beyond  the  city, 
the  eastern  half  of  the  mountain  crescent  around 
the  gulf  was  tinted  with  the  loveliest  hue  oi 
orange.  The  impressions  which  one  derives  from 
looking  on  remarkable  scenery,  depend,  for  much 
of  their  effect,  on  the  time  and  weather.  1  have 
been  very  fortunate  in  this  respect  in  two  in- 
stances, and  shall  carry  with  me  through  life, 
two  glorious  pictures  of  a  very  different  charac- 
ter— the  wild  sublimity  of  the  Brocken  in  cloud 
and  storm,  and  the  splendor  of  Genoa  in  an  Ital- 
ian sunset. 

Genoa  has  been  called  the  "city  of  palaces," 
and  it  well  deserves  the  appellation.  Row  after 
row  of  magnificent  structures  rise  amid  gardens 
along  the  side  of  the  hills,  and  many  of  the 
streets,  though  narrow'  and  crooked,  are  lined 
entirely  with  the  splendid  dwellings  of  the  Gen- 
oese nobles.  All  these  speak  of  the  republic  in  its 
days  of  wealth  and  power,  when  it  could  cope 
successfully  with  Venice,  and  Doria  could  threaten 
tc  bridle  the  horses  of  St.  Mark.  At  present  its 
condition  is  far  different;  although  not  so  fallen 
HS  its  rival,  it  is  but  a  shadow  of  its  former  self 
—the  life  and  energy  it  possessed  as  a  republic, 
tias  withered  away  under  the  grasp  of  tyranny. 

We  entered  Genoa,  as  I  have  already  said,  in  a 
religious  procession.  On  passing  the  gate  we 
saw  from  the  concourse  of  people  and  the  many 
banners  hanging  from  the  windows  or  floating 
across  the  streets,  that  it  was  the  clay  of  a  festa. 
Before  entering  the  city  we  reached  the  proces- 
sion itself,  which  was  one  of  unusual  solemnity. 
As  it  was  impossible  in  the  dense  crowd,  to  pass 
it,  we  struggled  through  till  we  reached  a  good 
point  for  seeing  the  .whole,  and  slowly  moved  on 
with  it  through  the  city.  First  went  a  company 
of  boys  in  white  robes ;  then  followed  a  body  of 
friars,  dressed  in  long  block  cassocks,  and  with 
shaven  crowns ;  then  a  company  of  soldiers  with 
a  band  of  music ;  then  a  body  of  uuus,  wrappecj 


306  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

from  head  to  foot  in  blue  robes,  leaving  only  a 
sin  all  place  to  see  out  of— in  the  dusk  they  looked 
very  solemn  and  ghost-like,  and  their  low  cli.-'iit 
had  to  me  something  awful  and  sepulchral  in  it; 
then  followed  another  company  of  friars,  and 
after  that  a  great  number  of  priests  in  white  and 
black  robes,  bearing  the  statue  of  the  saint, 
with  a  pyramid  of  flowers,  crosses  and  blazing 
wax  tapers,  while  companies  of  soldiery,  monks 
and  music  brought  up  the  rear.  Armed  guards 
walked  at  intervals  on  each  side  of  the  proces- 
sion, to  keep  the  way  clear  and  prevent  disturb- 
ance ;  two  or  three  bands  played  solemn  airsral- 
ternatino;  with  the  deep  monotonous  chanting 
of  the  friars.  The  whole  scene,  dimly  lighted  by 
the  wrax  tapers,  produced  in  me  a  feeling  nearly 
akin  to  feap,  as  if  I  were  witnessing  some  ghostly, 
unearthly  spectacle.  To  rites  like  these,  however, 
which  occur  every  few  weeks,  the  people  must  be 
well  accustomed. 

Among  the  most  interesting  objects  in  Genoa, 
is  the  Doria  palace,  fit  in  its  splendor  for  a  mon- 
arch's residence.  It  stands  in  the  Strada  Nova, 
one  of  the  three  principal  streets,  and  I  believe 
is  still  in  the  possession  of  the  family.  There  are 
many  others  through  the  city,  scarcely  less  mag- 
nificent, among  which  that  of  the  Durazzo  fam- 
ily may  be  pointed  out.  The  American  consu- 
late is  in  one  of  these  old  edifices,  with  a  fine 
court-yard  and  ceilings  covered  with  frescoes. 
Mr.  Moro,  the  Vice  Consul,  did  us  a  great  kind- 
ness, which  I  feel  bound  to  acknowledge,  al* 
though  it  will  require  the  disclosure  of  some  pri- 
vate, and  perhaps  uninteresting  circumstances. 
On  leaving  Frankfort,  we  converted — for  the 
sake  of  convenience — the  greater  part  of  our 
funds  into  a  draft  on  a  Saxon  merchant  in  Leg- 
horn, reserving  just  enough,  as  we  suppose;!,  to 
take  us  thither.  As  in  our  former  case,  in  Ger- 
many, the  sum  was  too  small,  which  we  found  to 
our  dismay  on  reaching  Milan.  Notwithstand< 


DEPARTURE  FOR  LEGHORN.  30? 

ing  we  had  travelled  the  whole  ninety  miles  from 
that  city  to  Genoa  for  three  francs  each,  in  the 
hope  of  having  enough  left  to  enable  one  at  least 
to  visit  Leghorn,  the  expenses  for  a  passport  in 
Genoa  (more  than  twenty  francs)  prevented  this 
plan.  I  went  therefore  to  the  Vice  Consul  to  as- 
certain whether  the  merchant  on. whom  the  draft 
was  drawn,  had  any  correspondents  there,  who 
might  advance  a  portion  of  it.  His  secretary 
made  many  inquiries,  but  without  effect;  Mr. 
Moro  then  generously  offered  to  furnish  me  with 
means  to  reach  Leghorn,  whence  I  could  easily 
remit  a  sufficient  sum  to  my  two  comrades. 
This  put  an  end  to  our  anxiety,  (for  I  must  con- 
fess we  could  not  help  feeling  some),  and  I  there- 
fore prepared  to  leave  that  evening  in  the  "  Vir- 
gilio." 

The  feelings  with  which  I  look  on  this  lovely 
land,  are  fast  changing.  What  with  the  dust 
and  heat,  and  cheating  landlords,  and  the  dull 
plains  of  Lombardy,  my  first  experience  was  not 
very  prepossessing.  But  the  joyous  and  roman- 
tic anticipation  with  which  I  looked  forward  to 
realizing  the  dream  of  my  earliest  boyhood,  is 
now  beginning  to  be  surpassed  by  the  exciting 
reality.  Every  breath  I  drew  in  the  city  of  Co- 
lumbus and  Doria,  was  deeply  tinctured  with  the 
magic  of  history  and  romance.  It  was  like  en- 
tering on  a  new  existence,  to  look  on  scenes  so 
lovely  by  nature  and  so  filled  with  the  inspiring 
memories  of  old. 

"Italia  too,  Italia!  looking  on  thee, 
Full  flashes  on  the  soul  the  light  of  ages, 
Since  the  fierce  Carthagenian  almost  won  thee, 
To  the  last  halo  of  the  chiefs  and  sages 
Who  glorify  thy  consecrated  pages! 
Thou  wert  the  throne  and  grave  of  empires." 

The  Virgillo  was  advertised  to  leave  at  sb 
o'clock,  and  I  accordingly  went  out  to  her  in  a. 
little  boat  half  an  hour  beforehand:  but  we 


308  VIEW'S  A- FOOT. 

were  delayed  much  longer,  and  I  saw  sunset 
again  fade  over  the  glorious  amphitheatre  of 
palaces  and  mountains,  with  the  same  orange 
gloom — the  same  purple  and  crimson  flush,  deep- 
ening into  twilight— as  before.  An  old  blind 
man  in  a  skiff,  floated  around  under  the  bows  of 
the  boat  on  the  glassy  water,  singing  to  the 
violin  a  plaintive  air  that  appeared  to  bo  an 
evening  hymn  to  the  virgin.  There  was  some- 
thing very  touching  in  his  venerable  counte- 
nance, with  the  sightless  eyes  turned  upward  to 
the  sunset  heaven  whose  glory  he  could  never 
more  behold. 

The  lamps  were  lit  on  the  tower  at  the  end  of 
the  mole  as  we  glided  out  on  the  open  i-en  :  I 
stood  on  deck  and  watched  the  receding  ligl.ts 
of  the  city,  till  they  and  the  mountains  nbove 
them  were  blended  with  the  darkened  sky.  The 
sea-breeze  was  fresh  and  cool,  and  the  stars  glit- 
tered with  a  frosty  clearness,  which  would  have 
made  the  night  delicious  had  not  a  slight  rolling 
of  the  waves  obliged  me  to  go  below.  Here,  be- 
sides being  half  seasick,  I  was  placed  at  the 
mercy  of  many  voracious  fleas,  who  obstinately 
stayed,  persisting  in  keeping  me  company.  This 
was  the  first  time  I  had  suffered  from  these  can- 
nibals, and  such  were  my  torments,  I  almost 
wished  some  blood-thirsty  Italian  would  come 
and  put  an  end  to  them  with  his  stiletto. 

The  first  ray  of  dawn  that  stole  into  the  cabin 
Bent  me  on  deck.  The  hills  of  Tuscany  lay  in 
front,  sharply  outlined  on  the  reddening  sky; 
near  us  was  the  steep  and  rocky  isle  of  Gorgona; 
and  far  to  the  south-west,  like  a  low  mist  along 
the  water,  ran  the  shores  of  Corsica — the  birth 
place  of  Columbus  and  Napoleon!*  As  the  dr.  \\i\ 
orightened  we  saw  on  the  southern  horizon  a 
cloud-like  island,  also  imperishably  connec-toa 

*  By  recent  registers  found  in  Corsica,  it  has  been  dis- 
covered that  this  island  also  gave  birth  to  the  discoverer  ot 
the  new  world. 


SCMNJSS  IN  LEGHORN.  309 

with  the  name  of  the  latter — the  prison-kingdom 
of  Elba!  North  of  us  extended  the  rugged 
mountains  of  Carrarra — that  renowned  range 
whence  has  sprung  many  a  form  of  almost 
breathing  beauty,  and  where  yet  slumber,  per- 
haps, in  the  unhewn  marble,  the  god-like  shapes 
of  an  age  of  art,  more  glorious  than  any  the 
world  has  ever  yet  heheld ! 

The  sun  rose  from  behind  the  Apennines  and 
masts  and  towers  became  visible  through  the 
golden  haze,  as  we  approached  the  shore.  On  a 
flat  space  between  the  sea  and  the  hills,  not  far 
from  the  foot  of  Montenero,  stands  Leghorn. 
The  harbor  is  protected  by  a  mole,  leaving  a 
narrow  passage,  through  which  we  entered,  and 
after  waiting  two  hours  for  the  visit  of  the 
health  and  police  officers,  we  were  permitted  to 
go  on  shore.  The  first  thing  that  struck  me, 
was  the  fine  broad  streets;  the  second,  the 
motley  character  of  the  population.  People 
were  hurry  ing  about  noisy  and  bustling— Greeks 
in  their  red  caps  and  capotes;  grave  turbaned 
and  bearded  Turks;  dark  Moors;  the  Corsair- 
looking  natives  of  Tripoli  and  Tunis,  and 
seamen  of  nearly  every  nation.  At  the  hotel 
where  I  stayed,  we  had  a  singular  mixture  of 
nations  at  dinner: — two  French,  two  Swiss,  one 
Genoese,  one  Horn  an,  one  American  and  one 
Turk — and  we  were  waited  on  by  a  Tuscan  and 
an  Arab!  We  conversed  together  in  four  lan- 
guages, all  at  once. 

To  the  merchant,  Leghorn  is  of  more  impor- 
tance than  to  the  traveller.  Its  extensive  trade, 
not  only  in  the  manufactures  of  Tuscany,  but 
also  in  the  productions  of  the  Levant,makes  it  im- 
portant to  the  former,  while  the  latter  seeks  in 
vain  for  fine  buildings,  galleries  of  art,  or  inter- 
esting historical  reminiscences.  Through  the 
kind  attention  of  the  Saxon  Consul,  to  whom  I 
had  letters,  two  or  three  days  went  by  delight- 
fully. 


810  VIE  WS  A-FOOT. 

The  only  place  of  amusement  here  in  summei 
is  a  drive  along  the  sea  shore,  called  the  Ardrnzn, 
Which  is  frequented  every  evening  by  all  who  can 
raise  a  vehicle.  I  visited  it  twice  with  a  German 
friend.  We  met  one  evening  the  Princess  Corsini. 
wife  of  the  Governor  of  Leghorn,  on  horseback— 
a  young,  but  not  pretty  woman.  There -.id  l«-ads 
out  along  the  Medil  ;rranean,  past  an  old  fort- 
ress, to  a  larje  establishment  for  the  sea  bath- 
ers, where  it  ends  in  a  large  ring,  around  which 
the  carriages  pass  and  r:^>ass,  until  sunset  has 
gone  out  over  il\e  sea,  when  they  return  to  the 
«ity  in  a  mad  gallrp,  or  as  fast  as  the  lean 
horses  can  draw  them. 

In  driving  around,  we  met  two  or  three  car- 
riages  of  Turks,  in  one  of  which  I  saw  a  woman 
of  Tunis,  with  a  curious  gilded  head-dress,  eight- 
een inches  in  height. 

I  saw  one  night  a  Turkish  funeral.  It  parsed 
me  in  one  of  the  outer  streets,  on  its  way  to  the 
Turkish  burying  ground.  Those  following  the 
coffin,  which  was  covered  with  a  heavy  black 
pall,  wore  white  turbans  and  long  white  robes 
— the  mourning  color  of  the  Turks.  Torches 
were  borne  by  attendants,  and  the  whole  com- 

Eany  passed  on  at  a  quick  pace.     Seen  thus 
y  night,  it  had  a  strange  and  spectral  appear- 
ance. 

There  is  another  spectacle  here  which  was  ex- 
ceedingly revolting  to  me.  The  condemned  crim- 
inals, chained  two  and  two,  are  kept  at  work 
through  the  city,  cleaning  the  streets.  They  are 
dressed  in  coarse  garments  of  a  dirty  red  color, 
with  the  name  of  the  crime  for  which  they  were 
convicted,  painted  on  the  back.  I  shuddered  to 
see  so  many  marked  with  the  words — "onricidio 
premeditate. "  All  day  they  are  thus  engaged, 
exposed  to  the  scorn  and  contumely  of  the  crowd, 
and  at  night  dragged  away  to  be  incarcerated 
in  damp,  unwholesome  dungeons,  excavated  un- 
der the  public  thoroughfares, 


PISA.  3H 

The  employment  of  criminals  in  this  way  ie 
common  in  Italy.  Two  days  after  crossing  St. 
Gothard,  we  saw  a  company  of  abject-looking 
creatures,  eating  their  dinner  by  the  road-side, 
near  Bellinzona.  One  of  them  had  a  small  bas- 
ket of  articles  of  cotton  and  linen,  and  as  he  rose 
up  to  offer  them  to  us,  I  was  startled  by  the 
clanks  of  fetters.  They  were  all  employed  to 
labor  on  the  road. 

On  going  down  to  the  wharf  in  Leghorn,  in  the 
morning,  two  or  three  days  ago,  1  found  F— — 
and  B just  stepping  on  shore  from  the  steam- 
boat, tired  enough  of  the  discomforts  of  the  voy- 
age, yet  anxious  to  set  out  for  Florence  as  soon 
as  possible.  After  we  had  shaken  off  the  crowd 
of  porters,  pedlars  and  vetturini,  and  taken  a 
hasty  breakfast  at  the  Cafe  Americano,  we  went 
to  the  Police  Office  to  get  our  passports,  and 
had  the  satisfaction  of  paying  two  francs  for  per- 
mission to  proceed  to  Florence.  The  weather 
had  changed  since  the  preceding  day,  and  the 
Birocco-wind  which  blows  over  from  the  coast  oi 
Africa,  filled  the  streets  with  clouds  of  dust,  which 
made  walking  very  unpleasant.  The  clear  blue 
sky  had  vanished,  and  a  leaden  cloud  hung  low 
on  the  Mediterranean,  hiding  the  shores  of  Cor- 
sica and  the  rocky  isles  of  Gorgona  and  Capraja. 

The  country  between  Leghorn  and  Pisa,  is  a 
flat  marsh,  intersected  in  several  places  by  ca- 
nals to  carry  off  tlie  stagnant  water  which  ren- 
ders this  district  so  unhealthy.  It  is  said  that 
the  entire  plain  between  the  mountains  of 
Carrara  and  the  hills  back  of  Leghorn  has  been 
gradually  formed  by  the  deposits  of  the  Arno  and 
the  receding  of  the  Mediterranean,  which  is  so 
shallow  along  the  whole  coast,  that  large  ves- 
sels have  to  anchor  several  miles  out.  As  we  ap- 
proached Pisa  over  the  level  marsh,  I  could  see 
the  dome  of  the  Cathedral  and  the  Leaning 
Tower  rising  above  the  gardens  and  groves 
which  surround  it  '  :  '  / 


312  VIEWS  A-P06T. 

Our  baggage  underwent  another  examination 
at  the  gate,  where  we  were  again  assailed  by  the 
vetturini,  one  of  whom  hung  on  us  like  a  leech 
till  we  reached  a  hotel,  and  there  was  finally  no 
way  of  shaking  him  off  except  by  engaging  him 
to  take  us  to  Florence.  The  bargain  having 
been  concluded,  we  had  still  a  few  hours  left  and 
set  off  to  hunt  the  Cathedral.  We  found  it  on  an 
open  square  near  the  outer  wall,  and  quite  re- 
mote from  the  main  part  of  the  town.  Emerg- 
ing from  the  narrow  and  winding  street,  one 
takes  in  at  a  glance  the  Baptistery,  the  Campo 
Santo,  the  noble  Cathedral  and  the  Leaning 
Tower — forming  altogether  a  view  rarely  sur- 
passed in  Europe  for  architectural  effect.  But 
the  square  is  melancholy  and  deserted,  and 
rank,  untranipled  grass  fills  the  crevices  of  its 
marble  pavement. 

I  was  surprised  at  the  beauty  of  the  Leaning 
Tower.  Instead  of  an  old,  black,  crumbling 
fabric,  as  I  always  supposed,  it  is  a  light?  airy, 
elegant  structure,  of  white  marble,  and  its  de- 
clension, which  is  interesting  as  a  work  of  art 
(or  accident,)  is  at  the  same  time  pleasing  from 
its  novelty.  There  have  been  many  conjectures 
as  to  the  cause  of  this  deviation,  which  is  up- 
wards of  fourteen  feet  from  the  perpendicular;  it 
is  now  generally  believed  that  the  earth  having 
sunk  when  the  building  was  half  finished,  it  was 
continued  by  the  architects  in  the  same  angle. 
The  upper  gallery,  which  is  smaller  than  the 
others,  shows  a  very  perceptible  inclination 
back  towards  the  perpendicular,  as  if  in  some 
degree  to  counterbalance  the  deviation  of  the 
other  part.  There  are  eight  galleries  in  all, 
supported  by  marble  pillars,  but  the  inside  of 
the  Tower  is  hollow  to  the  very  top. 

We  ascended  by  the  same  stairs  which  were 
trodden  so  often  by  Galileo  in  going  up  to  make 
his  astronomical  observations;  in  climbing 
spirally  around  the  hollow  cylinder  in  the  dark, 


THE  LEANING  TOWER.  813 

it  was  easy  to  tell  on  which  side  of  the  Tower 
we  were,  from  the  proportionate  steepness  of 
the  staircase.  There  is  a  fine  view  from  the  top, 
embracing1  the  whole  plain  as  far  as  Leghorn  on 
one  side,  with  its  gardens  and  grain  fields  spread 
out  like  a  vast  map.  In  a  valley  of  the  Carrar- 
ese  Mountains  to  the  north,  we  could  see  the 
little  town  of  Lucca,  much  frequented  at  this 
season  on  account  of  its  baths;  the  blue  sum- 
mits of  the  Apennines  shut  in  the  view  to  the 
ea.st.  In  walking  through  the  city  I  noticed  two 
other  towers,  which  had  nearly  as  great  a  devia- 
tion from  the  perpendicular.  We  met  a  person 
who  had  the  key  of  the  Baptistery,  which  he 
opened  for  us.  Two  ancient  columns  covered 
with  rich  sculpture  form  the  doorway,  and  the 
dome  is  supported  by  massive  pillars  of  the  red 
marble  of  Elba.  The  baptismal  font  is  of  the 
purest  Parian  marble.  The  most  remarkable 
thing  was  the  celebrated  musical  echo.  Our 
cicerone  stationed  himself  at  the  side  of  the  font 
and  sang  a  few  notes.  After  a  moment's  pause 
they  were  repeated  aloft  in  the  dome,  but  with  a 
sound  of  divine  sweetness — as  clear  and  pure  as 
the  clang  of  a  crystal  bell.  Another  pause— and 
we  heard  them  again,  higher,  fainter  and  sweeter, 
followed  by  a  dying  note,  as  if  they  were  fading 
far  away  into  heaven.  It  seemed  as  if  an  angel 
lingered  in  the  temple,  echoing  with  his  melc- 
dious  lips  the  common  harmonies  of  earth.  Even 
thus  does  the  music  of  good  deeds,  hardly  noted 
'•.i  our  grosser  atmosphere,  awake  a  divine  echo 
in  the  far  world  of  spirit. 

The  Campo  Santo,  on  the  north  side  of  the 
Cathedral,  was,  until  lately,  the  cemetery  of  the 
city ;  the  space  enclosed  within  its  marble  gal- 
leries is  filled  to  the  depth  of  eight  or  ten  feet, 
with  earth  from  the  Holy  Land.  The  vessels 
which  carried  the  knights  of  Tuscany  to  Pales- 
tine were  filled  at  Joppa,  on  returning,  with  this 
earth  as  ballast,  and  on  arriving  at  Pisa  it  was 


314  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

deposited  in  the  Cemetery.  It  has  the  peculiar 
property  of  decomposing1  all  human  bodies,  in 
the  space  of  two  days.  A  colonnade  of  marble 
encloses  it,  with  windows  of  the  most  exquisite 
sculpture  opening  on  the  inside.  They  reminded 
me  of  the  beautiful  Gothic  oriels  of  Melrose.  At 
each  end  are  two  fine,  green  cypresses,  which 
thrive  remarkably  in  the  soil  of  Palestine.  The 
dust  of  a  German  emperor,  among  others,  rests 
in  this  consecrated  ground.  There  are  other 
fine  churches  in  Pisa,  but  the  four  buildings  I 
have  mentioned,  are  the  principal  objects  of 
interest.  The  tower  where  Count  Ugolino  and 
his  sons  were  starved  to  death  by  the  citizens  of 
Pisa,  who  locked  them  up  and  threw  the  keyg 
into  the  Arno,  has  lately  been  destroyed. 

An  Italian  gentleman  having  made  a  bargain 
in  the  meantime  with  our  vetturino,  we  found 
every  thing  ready  on  returning  to  the  hotel.  On 
the  outside  of  the  town  we  mounted  into  the- 
vehicle,  a  rickety-looking  concern,  and  as  it  com- 
menced raining,  I  was  afraid  we  would  have  a 
bad  night  of  it.  After  a  great  deal  of  bargain- 
ing, the  vetturino  agreed  to  take  us  to  Florence 
that  night  for  five  francs  a  piece,  provided  one 
person  would  sit  on  the  outside  with  the  driver. 
I  accordingly  mounted  on  front,  protected  by  a 
blouse  and  umbrella,  for  it  was  beginning  to 
rain  dismally.  The  miserable,  bare-boned  horses 
were  fastened  with  rope-traces,  and  the  vetturino 
having  taken  the  rope-lines  in  his  hand,  gave  a 
flourish  with  his  whip;  one  old  horse  tumbled 
nearly  to  the  ground,  but  he  jerked  him  up 
again  and  we  rattled  off. 

After  riding  ten  miles  in  this  way,  it  became  so 
wet  and  dreary  that  I  was  fain  to  give  the  driver 
two  francs  extra,  for  the  privilege  of  an  inside 
seat.  Our  Italian  companion  was  agreeable  and 
talkative,  but  as  we  were  still  ignorant  of  the 
language,  I  managed  to  hold  a  scanty  conversa- 
tion with  him  in  French.  He  seemed  delighted 


NIGHT  TRA  VELLING.  315 

to  learn  that  we  were  from  America ;  his  polite 
reserve  gave  place  to  a  friendly  familiarity  and 
he  was  loud  in  his  praises  of  Americans.  I  asked 
him  why  it  was  that  he  and  the  Italians  gener- 
ally, were  so  friendly  towards  us.  "I  hardly 
know,"  he  answered;  "you  are  so  different  from 
any  other  nation;  and  then,  too,  you  have  so 
much  sincerity!" 

The  Apennines  were  wreathed  and  hidden  in 
thick  mist,  and  the  prospect  over  the  flat  corn- 
fields  bordering  the  road  was  not  particularly 
interesting.  We  had  made  about  one-third  of  the 
way  as  night  set  in,  when  on  ascending  a  hill 

soon  after  dark,  F happened  to  look  out,  and 

saw  one  of  the  axles  bent  and  nearly  broken  of£ 
We  were  obliged  to  get  out  and  walk  through  the 
mud  to  the  next  village,  when  after  two  hours' 
delay,  the  vetturino  came  along  with  another 
carriage.  Of  the  rest  of  the  way  to  Florence  I 
cannot  say  much.  Cramped  up  in  the  narrow 
vehicle,  we  jolted  along  in  the  dark,  rumbling 
now  and  then  through  some  silent  village,  where 
lamps  were  burning  before  the  solitary  shrines. 
Sometimes  a  blinding  light  crossed  the  road, 
where  we  saw  the  tile-makers  sitting  in  the  red 
glare  of  their  kilns,  and  often  the  black  boughs 
of  trees  were  painted  momentarily  on  the  cloudy 
sk}'.  If  the  jolting  carriage  had  even  permitted 
sleep,  the  horrid  cries  of  the  vetturino,  urging 
on  his  horses,  would  have  prevented  it ;  and  I 
decided,  while  trying  to  relieve  my  aching  limbs, 
that  three  days'  walking  in  sun  and  sand  was 
preferable  to  one  night  of  such  travel. 

Finally  about  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  the 
carriage  stopped  ;  my  Italian  friend  awoke  and 
demanded  the  cause.  "  Signer,"  said  the  vettu- 
rino, "  we  are  in  Florence! "  I  blessed  the  man, 
and  the  city  too.  The  good-humored  officer 
looked  at  our  passports  and  passed  our  bag- 
gage without  examination ;  we  gave  the  gate- 
keeper a  paul  and  he  admitted  us.  The  carriage 


316  frJEWS  A- FOOT. 

rolled  through  the  dark,  silent  streets — passed  a 
public  square — came  out  on  the  Arno — crossed 
and  entered  the  city  again — and  finally  stopped 
at  a  hotel.  The  master  of  the  "Lione  Bianco" 
came  down  in  an  undress  to  receive  us,  and  we 
shut  the  growing  dawn  out  of  our  rooms  to 
steal  that  repose  from  the  day  which  the  night 
had  not  given. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

FLORENCE  AND  ITS  GALLERIES. 

Sept.  11. — Our  situation  here  is  as  agreeable  ;is 
we  could  well  desire.  We  have  three  large  and 
handsomely  furnished  rooms,  in  the  centre  of 
the  city,  for  which  we  pay  Signor  Lazzeri,  a 
wealthy  goldsmith,  ten  scudo  per  month — a 
scudo  being  a  trifle  more  than  an  American  dol- 
lar. We  live  at  the  Cafes  and  Trattorie  very  con- 
veniently for  twenty-five  cents  a  day,  enjoying, 
moreover,  at  our  dinner  in  the  Trattoria  d;-l 
Cacciatore,  the  company  of  several  American 
artists  with  whom  we  have  become  acquainted. 
The  day  after  our  arrival  we  met  at  the  table  d' 
hote  of  the  "Lione  Bianco,"  Dr.  Boardman  of 
Xow  York,  through  whose  assistance  we  ob- 
tained our  present  lodgings.  There  are  at  pres- 
ent ten  or  twelve  American  artists  in  Florence, 
and  we  promise  ourselves  much  pleasure  and 

profit  from  their  acquaintance.    B and  I  are 

so  charmed  with  the  place  and  the  beautiful 
Tuscan  dialect,  that  we  shall  endeavor  to  spend 

three  or  four  months  here.    F returns  to 

Germany  in  two  weeks,  to  attend  the  winter 
term  of  the  University  at  Ms  favorite  HeideL 


GALLRRT.  3l7 

Our  first  walk  in  Florence  was  to  the  Koyal 
Gallery — we  wished  to  see  the  "goddess  living  in 
stone '  •  without  delay.  Crossing  the  neighboring 
P'mzzti  delGranduca,v,'e  passed  Michael  Angelo's 
colossal  statue  of  David,  and  an  open  gallery 
containing,  besides  some  antiques,  the  master- 
piece of  John  of  Bologna.  The  palace  of  the 
Uffizii,  fronting  on  the  Arno,  extends  along  both 
sides  of  an  avenue  running  back  to  the  Palazzo 
Vecchio.  We  entered  the  portico  which  passes 
around  under  the  great  building,  and  after  as- 
cending three  or  four  nights  of  steps,  came  into 
a  long  hall,  filled  with  paintings  and  ancient 
statuary.  Towards  the  end  of  this,  a  door 
opened  into  the  Tribune— that  celebrated  room, 
unsurpassed  by  any  in  the  world  for  the  number 
and  value  of  the  gems  it  contains.  I  pushed 
aside  a  crimson  curtain  and  stood  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  Venus. 

It  may  be  considered  heresy,  but  I  confess  I 
did  not  at  rirst  go  into  raptures,  nor  perceive 
any  traces  of  superhuman  beauty.  The  pre- 
dominant  feeling,  if  I  may  so  express  it,  was 
satisfaction;  the  eye  dwells  on  its  faultless  out- 
line with  a  gratified  sense,  that  nothing  is  want- 
ing to  render  it  perfect.  It  is  the  ideal  of  a 
woman's  form — a  faultless  standard  by  which 
all  beauty  may  bo  measured,  but  without  strik- 
ing expression,  except  in  the  modest  and  grace- 
ful position  of  the  limbs.  The  face,  though  reg- 
ular, is  not  handsome,  and  the  body  appears 
small,  being  but  five  feet  in  height"  which,  I 
think,  is  a  little  below  the  average  stature  of 
women.  On  each  side,  as  if  to  heighten  its  ele- 
gance by  contrast  with  rude  and  unrefined  na- 
ture, are  the  statues  of  the  Wivstlers,  and  the 
slave  listening  to  the  conspiracy  of  Catiline, 
called  also  The  Whetter. 

As  if  to  correspond  with  the  value  of  the 
works  it  holds,  the  Tribune  is  paved  with 
precious  marbles  and  the  ceiling  studded  with 


518  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

polished  mother-of-pearl.  A  dim  and  subdued 
light  fills  the  hall,  which  throws  over  the  mind 
that  half-dreamy  tone  necessary  to  the  full  en- 
joyment of  such  objects.  On  each  side  of  the 
Venus  <l<>  Medici  hangs  a  Venus  by  Titian,  the 
size  of  life,  and  painted  in  that  rich  and  gor- 
geous  style  of  coloring  which  has  been  BO  often 
and  vainly  attempted  since  his  time. 

Here  are  six  of  Raphael's  best  preserved 
paintings.  I  preferthe"St.  John  in  the  Desert" 
to  any  other  picture  in  the  Tribune.  His 
glorious  form,  in  the  fair  proportions  of  ripen- 
ing boyhood — the  grace  of  his  attitude,  with 
the  arm  lifted  eloquently  on  high — the  divine  in- 
spiration which  illumines  his  young  features — 
H  i :  u  n  the  step  irresistibly  before  it.  It  is  one  of 
those  triumphs  of  the  pencil  which  few  but 
Raphael  have  accomplished — the  painting  of 
spirit  in  its  loftiest  and  purest  form.  Near  it 
hangs  the  Fornarina,  which  he  seems  to  have 
painted  in  as  deep  a  love  as  he  entertained  for 
the  original.  The  face  is  modest  and  beautiful, 
and  filled  with  an  expression  of  ardent  and 
tender  attachment.  I  never  tire  looking  upon 
either  of  these  two. 

Let  me  not  forget,  while  we  are  in  this  peerless 
hall,  to  point  out  Guercino's  Samian  Sybil.  It 
is  a  glorious  work.  With  her  hands  clasped 
over  her  volume,  she  is  looking  up  with  a  face 
full  of  deep  and  expressive  sadness.  A  pictur- 
esque turban  is  twined  around  her  head,  and 
bands  of  pearls  gleam  amidst  her  rich,  dark 
brown  tresses.  Her  face  bears  the  softness  of 
dawning  womanhood,  and  nearly  answers  my 
ideal  of  female  beauty.  The  same  artist  lias 
another  fine  picture  here — a  sleeping  Endymion. 
The  mantle  has  fallen  from  his  shoulders,  as  he 
reclines  asleep,  with  his  head  on  his  hand,  and 
his  crook  beside  him.  The  silver  crescent  of 
Dian  looks  over  his  shoulder  from  the  sky  be- 
b»xid,  and  no  wonder  if  she  should  become  en- 


ART  AND  IT  ALT.  319 

amored,for  a  lovelier  shepherd  has  not  been  seen 
since  that  of  King  Admetus  went  back  to  drive 
his  chariot  in  the  heavens. 

The  "Drunken  Bacchus"  of  Michael  Angelo 
is  greatly  admired,  and  indeed  it  might  pass  for 
a  relic  of  the  palmiest  times  of  Grecian  art. 
The  face,  amidst  its  half-vacant,  sensual  expres- 
sion, shows  traces  of  its  immortal  origin,  and 
there  is  still  an  air  of  dignity  preserved  in  the 
swagger  of  his  beautiful  form.  It  is,  in  a  word, 
the  ancient  idea  of  a>  drunken  god.  It  may  be 
doubted  whether  the  artist's  talents  might  not 
have  been  employed  better  than  in  ennobling  in- 
toxication. If  he  had  represented  Bacchus  as 
he  really  is — degraded  even  below  the  level  of 
humanity — it  might  be  more  beneficial  to  the 
mind,  though  less  beautiful  to  the  eye.  How- 
ever, this  is  a  question  on  which  artists  and 
moralists  cannot  agree.  Perhaps,  too,  the  rich 
blood  of  the  Falernian  grape  produced  a  more 
godlike  delirium  than  the  vulgar  brandy  which 
••sets  the  moderns! 

At  one  end  of  the  gallery  is  a  fine  copy  in 
in  irblo  of  the  Laocoon,  by  Bandinelli,  one  of 
the  rivals  of  Michael  Angelo.  When  it  was 
iinished,  the  former  boasted  it  was  better  than 
the  original,  to  which  Michael  made  the  apt  re- 
ply: "It  is  foolish  for  those  who  walk  in  the 
footsteps  of  others,  to  say  they  go  before  them ! " 

Let  us  enter  the  hall  of  Niobe.  One  starts 
back  on  seeing  the  many  figures  in  the  attitude 
;,f  flight,  for  they  seem  at  first  about  to  spring 
from  their  pedestals.  At  the  head  of  the  room 
-lands  the  afflicted  mother,  bending  over  the 
voungest  daughter  who  clings  to  her  knees,  with 
an  upturned  countenance  of  deep  and  imploring 
agony.  In  vain  !  the  shafts  of  Apollo  fall  thick, 
and  she  will  soon  be  childless.  No  wonder  tho 
strength  of  that  wo  depicted  on  her  counte- 
nance should  change  her  into  stone.  One  of  her 
sons — a  beautiful,  boyish  form, — is  lying  on  his 


520  VIEWS   A 

back,  just  expiring,  with  the  chill  languor  of 
death  creeping  over  his  limbs.  Y\'o  seem  to  hear 
the  quick  whistling  of  the  arrows,  and  look  in- 
voluntarily into  the  air  to  see  the  hovering 
3gure  of  the  avenging  god.  In  a  chamber  near 
:<s  kept  the  head  of  a  faun,  made  by  Mir 
A.ngelo,  at  the  age  of  foui  teen,  in  the  garden  of 
Lorenzo  de  J^Iedici,  from  ft  piece  of  marble  given 
him  by  the  workmen. 

The  portraits  of  the  painters  are  more  than 
'isually  interesting.  Lvery  countenance  is  full 
nf  character.  Ther^  is  the  pale,  enthusiastic 
face  of  Raphael,  th*1  stern  vigor  of  Titian,  the 
majesty  and  dignit/  of  Leonardo  da  Yinci,  and 
the  fresh  beauty  rf  Angelica  Kauffmann.  I  liked 
best  the  romantic  head  of  Raphael  Mengs.  In 
one  of  the  TOOMS  there  is  a  portrait  of  Alfieri, 
with  an  autograph  sonnet  of  his  OAvn  on  the 
back  of  it.  The  house  in  which  he  lived  and  died, 
is  on  the  north  bank  of  the  Arno,  near  thePonte 
Caraja,  and  his  ashes  rest  in  Santa  Croce. 

Italy  still  remains  the  home  of  art,  and  it  is 
but  just  she  should  keep  these  treasures,  though 
the  age  that  brought  them  forth  has  passed 
*  way.  They  are  her  only  support  now ;  her  peo- 
ple are  dependent  for  their  subsistence  on  the 
glory  of  the  past.  The  spirits  of  the  old 
painters,  living  still  on  their  canvas,  earn  from 
year  to  year  the  bread  of  an  indigent  and  op- 
pressed people.  This  ought  to  silence  those  util- 
itarians at  home,  who  oppose  the  cultivation  of 
the  fine  arts,  on  the  ground  of  their  being-useless 
luxuries.  Let  them  look  to  Italy,  where  a  pict- 
ure by  Raphael  or  Correggio  is  a  rich  legacy  for 
a  whole  city.  Nothing  is  useless  that  gratifies 
that  perception  of  beauty,  which  is  at  once  the 
most  delicate  and  the  most  intense  of  our  men- 
tal sensations,  binding  us  by  an  unconscious 
link  nearer  to  nature  and  to  Him,  whose  every 
thought  is  born  of  Beauty,  Truth  and  Love.  I 
envy  not  the  one  who  looks  with  a  cold  and  in- 


A  RELIGIOUS  FESTIVAL.  8H 

different  spirit  on  these  immortal  creations  of 
the  old  masters — these  poems  written  in  mar- 
ble and  on  the  canvas.  They  who  oppose  every 
thing  which  can  refine  and  spiritualize  the  nature 
of  man,  by  binding  him  down  to  the  cares  of 
the  work-day  world  alone,  cheat  life  of  half  its 
glory. 

The  eighth  of  this  month  was  the  anniversary 
of  the  birth  of  the  Virgin,  and  the  celebration, 
if  such  it  might  be  called,  commenced  the  even- 
ing before.  It  is  the  custom,  and  Heaven  only 
knows  how  it  originated,  for  the  people  of  the 
lower  class  to  go  through  the  streets  in  a  com- 
pany, blowing  little  penny  whistles.  We  were 
walking  that  night  in  the  direction  of  theDuomo, 
when  we  met  a  band  of  these  men,  blowing  with 
all  their  might  on  the  shrill  whistles,  so  that  the 
whole  neighborhood  resounded  with  one  contin- 
ual, piercing,  ear-splitting  shriek.  They  marched 
in  a  kind  of  quick  trot  through  the  streets,  fol- 
lowed by  a  crowd  of  boys,  and  varying  the  noise 
occasionally  by  shouts  and  howls  of  the  most 
horrible  character.  They  paraded  through  all 
the  principal  streets  of  the  city,  which  for  an 
hour  sent  up  such  an  agonizing  scream  that  you 
might  have  fancied  it  an  enormous  monster,  ex- 
piring in  great  torment.  The  people  seemed  to 
take  the  whole  thing  as  a  matter  of  course,  but 
it  was  to  us  a  novel  manner  of  ushering  in  a  re- 
ligious festival. 

The  sky  was  clear  and  blue,  as  it  always  is  in 
this  Italian  paradise,  when  we  left  Florence  a  few 
days  ago  for  Fiesole.  In  spite  of  many  virtuous 
efforts  to  rise  early,  it  was  nine  o'clock  before  we 
left  the  PortaSanGallo,  with  its  triumphal  arch 
to  the  Emperor  Francis,  striding  the  road  to 
Bologna.  We  passed  through  the  public  walk 
at  this  end  of  the  city,  and  followed  the  road  to 
Fiesole  along  the  dried-up  bed  of  a  mountain 
torrent.  The  dwellings  of  the  Florentine  nobil- 
ity occupy  the  whole  slope,  surrounded  with  rich 


122  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

and  lovely  gardens.  The  mountain  and 
are  both  covered  with  luxuriant  olive  orchards, 
whose  foliage  of  silver  gray  gives  the  scene  thi 
look  of  a  moonlight  landscape. 

At  the  base  of  the  mountain  of  Fiesole  we 
passed  one  of  the  summer  palaces  of  Lorenzo 
the  Magnificent,  and  a  little  distance  beyond% 
took  a  foot-path  overshadowed  by  magnificent 
cypresses,  between  whose  dark  trunks  we  looked 
down  on  the  lovely  Val  d'Arno.  But  I  will  re 
serve  all  description  of  the  view  till  we  arrive  at 
the  summit. 

The  modern  village  of  Fiesole  occupies  the  site 
of  an  ancient  city,  generally  supposed  to  be  of 
Etrurian  origin.  Just  above,  on  one  of  the 
peaks  of  the  mountain,  stands  the  Acropolis, 
formerly  used  as  a  fortress,  but  now  untenanted 
save  by  a  few  monks.  From  the  side  of  its  walls, 
beneath  the  shade  of  a  fewr  cypresses,  there  is  a 
magnificent  view  of  the  whole  of  Val  d'Arno, 
with  Florence — the  gem  of  Italy — in  the  centre. 
Stand  with  me  a  moment  on  the  height,  and  let 
us  gaze  on  this  grand  panorama,  around  which 
the  Apennines  stretch  with  a  majestic  sweep, 
wrapped  in  a  robe  of  purple  air,  through  which 
shimmer  the  villas  and  villages  on  their  sides! 
The  lovely  vale  lies  below  us  in  its  garb  of 
olive  groves,  among  which  beautiful  villas  are 
sprinkled  as  plentifully  as  white  anemones  in  the 
woods  of  May.  Florence  lies  in  front  of  us,  the 
magnificent  cupola  of  the  Duomo  crowning  its 
clustered  palaces.  We  see  the  airy  tower  of  the 
Palazzo  Vecchio — the  new  spire  of  Santa  Croce — 
and  the  long  front  of  the  Palazzo  Pitti,  with  the 
dark  foliage  of  the  Boboli  Gardens  behind.  Be- 
yond, far  to  the  south,  are  the  summits  of  the 
mountains  near  Siena.  We  can  trace  the  sandy 
bed  of  the  Arno  down  the  valley  till  it  disap- 
pears at  the  foot  of  the  Lower  Apennines,  which 
mingle  in  the  distance  with  the  mountains  of 
Carrara. 


THE  "TOP  OF  FIE  SOLE."  321 

Galileo  was  wont  to  make  observations  "at 
evening  from  the  top  of  Fiesole,"and  the  square 
tower  of  the  old  church  is  still  pointed  out  as 
the  spot.  Many  a  night  did  he  ascend  to  its 
projecting  terrace,  and  watch  the  stars  as  they 
rolled  around  through  the  clearest  heaven  to 
which  a  philosopher  ever  looked  up. 

We  passed  through  an  orchard  of  fig  trees, 
and  vines  laden  with  beautiful  purple  and  golden 
clusters,  and  in  a  few  minutes  reached  the  re- 
mains of  an  amphitheatre,  in  a  little  nook  on 
the  mountain  side.  This  was  a  work  of  Ro- 
man construction,  as  its  form  indicates.  Three 
or  four  ranges  of  seats  alone,  are  laid  bare,  and 
these  have  only  been  discovered  within  a  few 
years.  A  few  steps  further  we  came  to  a  sort  of 
cavern,  overhung  with  wild  fig-trees.  After 
creeping  in  at  the  entrance,  we  found  ourselves 
in  an  oval  chamber,  tall  enough  to  admit  of  our 
standing  upright,  and  rudely  but  very  strongly 
built.  This  was  one  of  the  dens  in  which  the 
jvild  beasts  were  kept ;  they  were  fed  by  a  hole 
in  the  top,  now  closed  up.  This  cell  communi- 
cates with  four  or  five  others,  by  apertures 
broken  in  the  walls.  I  stepped  into  one,  and 
could  see  in  the  dim  light,  that  it  was  exactly 
similar  to  the  first,  and  opened  into  another 
beyond. 

Further  down  the  mountain  we  found  the  an- 
cient wall  of  the  city,  without  doubt  of  Etrurian, 
origin.  It  is  of  immense  blocks  of  stone,  and 
extends  more  or  less  dilapidated  around  the 
whole  brow  of  the  mountain.  In  one  place 
there  stands  a  solitary  gateway,  of  large  stones, 
which  looks  as  if  it  might  have  been  one  of  the 
first  attempts  at  using  the  principle  of  the  arch. 
These  ruins  are  all  gray  and  ivied,  and  it  startles 
one  to  think  what  a  history  Earth  has  lived 
through  since  their  foundations  were  laid ! 

We  sat  all  the  afternoon  under  the  cypress 
trees  and  looked  down  on  the  lovely  valley. 


K4  VIEWS    .2-FOOT. 

practising  Italian  sometimes  with  two  yotm£ 
Florentines  who  came  up  to  enjoy  the  "belt 
aria"  of  Fiesole.  Descending  as  sunset  dre\> 
on,  we  reached  the  Porta  San  Gallo,  as  the  peo- 
ple of  Florence  were  issuing  forth  to  their  even- 
ing promenade. 

One  of  my  first  visits  was  to  the  church  ol 
Santa  Croce.  This  is  one  of  the  oldest  in  Flor- 
ence, venerated  alike  by  foreigners  and  citizens 
for  the  illustrious  dead  whose  remains  it  holds. 
It  is  a  plain,  gloomy  pile,  the  front  of  which 
is  still  unfinished,  though  afc  the  base,  one 
sees  that  it  was  originally  designed  to  be  cov- 
ered with  black  marble.  On  entering  the  door 
we  first  saw  the  tomb  of  Michael  Angelo. 
Around  the  marble  sarcophagus  which  con- 
tains his  ashes  are  three  mourning  figures, 
representing  Sculpture,  Painting  and  Archi- 
tecture, and  his  bust  stands  above — a  rough, 
stern  countenance,  like  a  man  of  vast  but  un- 
refined mind.  Further  on  are  the  tombs  of 
Alfieri  and  Machiavelli  and  the  colossal  cen- 
otaph lately  erected  to  Dante.  Opposite  re- 
poses Gah'leo.  What  a  world  of  renown  in  these 
few  names !  It  makes  one  venerate  the  majesty 
of  his  race,  to  stand  beside  the  dust  of  such 
lofty  spirits.  • 

Dante's  monument  may  be  said  to  be  only 
erected  to  his  memory ;  he  sleeps  at  the  place  of 
his  exile, 

"Like  Scipio,  buried  by  the  upbraiding  shore!** 

It  is  the  work  of  Ricci,  a  Florentine  artist, 
and  has  been  placed  there  within  a  few  years. 
The  colossal  figure  of  Poetry  weeping  over  the 
empty  urn,  might  better  express  the  regret  of 
Florence  in  being  deprived  of  his  ashes.  The 
figure  of  Dante  himself,  seated  above,  is  grand 
and  majestic ;  his  head  is  inclined  as  if  in  medi- 
Ration,  and  his  features  bear  the  expression  of 


SANTA   CROCB.  321 

sublime  thought.  Were  this  figure  placed  there 
alone,  on  a  simple  and  massive  pedestal,  it 
would  be  more  in  keeping  with  his  fame  than 
the  lumbering  heaviness  of  the  present  monu- 
ment. 

Machiavelli's  tomb  is  adorned  with  a  female 
figure  representing  History,  bearing  his  portrait. 
The  inscription,  which  seems  to  be  somewhat  ex- 
aggerated, is  :  tanto nomini  nuilum  par  elogium. 
Near  lies  Alfieri,  the  "prince  of  tragedy,"  as  he 
is  called  by  the  -Italians.  In  his  life  he  was  fond 
of  wandering  among  the  tombs  of  Santa  Croce, 
and  it  is  said  that  there  the  first  desire  and  pre- 
sentiment of  his  future  glory  stirred  within  his 
breast.  Now  he  slumbers  among  them,  not  the 
least  honored  name  of  that  immortal  company. 

Galileo's  tomb  is  adorned  with  his  bust.  His 
face  is  calm  and  dignified,  and  he  holds  appro- 
priately in  his  hands,  a  globe  and  telescope. 
Aretino,  t"ie  historian,  lies  on  his  tomb  with  a 
copy  of  his  works  clasped  to  his  breast ;  above 
that  of  Lanzi,  the  historian  of  painting,  there  is 
a  beautiful  fresco  of  the  angel  of  fame;  and 
opposite  to  him  is  the  scholar  Lamio.  The  most 
beautiful  monument  in  the  church  is  that  of  a 
Polish  princess,  in  the  transept.  She  is  lying  on 
the  bier,  her  features  settled  in  the  repose  of 
death,  and  her  thin,  pale  hands  clasped  across 
her  breast.  The  countenance  wears  that  half- 
smile,  "so  coldly  sweet  and  sadly  fair,"  which  so 
often  throws  a  beauty  over  the  face  of  the  dead, 
and  the  light  pall  reveals  the  fixed  yet  graceful 
outline  of  the  form. 

In  that  part  of  the  city,  which  lies  on  the  south 
bank  of  the  Arno,  is  the  palace  of  the  Grand 
Duke,  known  by  the  name  of  the  Palazzo  Pitti, 
from  a  Florentine  noble  of  that  name,  by  whom 
it  was  first  built.  It  is  a  very  large,  imposing 
pile,  preserving  an  air  of  lightness  in  spite  of  the 
rough,  heavy  stones  of  which  it  is  built.  It  is 
another  example  of  a  magnificent  failure.  The 


126  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

Marquis  Strozzi,  haying  built  a  palace  whirh 
was  universally  admired  for  its  beauty,  (which 
stands  yet,  a  model  of  chaste  and  massive  ele- 
gance,) his  rival,  the  Marquis  Pitti,  made  tho 
proud  boast  that  he  would  build  a  palace,  in  tho 
court-yard  of  which  could  be  placed  that  of 
Strozzi.  These  are  actually  the  dimensions  of 
the  court-yard;  but  in  building  the  palace, 
although  he  was  liberally  assisted  by  the  Flor- 
entine people,  he  ruined  himself,  and  his  magnif- 
icent residence  rjassed  into  other  hands,  while 
that  of  Strozzi  is  inhabited  by  his  descendants 
to  this  very  day. 

The  gallery  of  the  Palazzo  Pitti  is  one  of  tho 
finest  in  Europe.  It  contains  six  or  seven  hun- 
dred paintings,  selected  from  the  best  works  of 
the  Italian  masters.  By  the  praiseworthy  liber- 
ality of  the  Duke,  they  are  open  to  the  public, 
six  hours  every  day,  and  the  rooms  are  thronged 
with  artists  of  ah1  nations. 

Among  Titian's  works,  there  is  his  celebrated 
"  Bella,  a  half-length  figure  of  a  young  woman. 
It  is  a  masterpiece  of  warm  and  brilliant  color- 
ing, without  any  decided  expression.  The  coun- 
tenance  is  that  of  vague,  undefined  thought,  as 
of  one  who  knew  as  yet  nothing  of  the  realities 
of  life.  In  another  room  is  his  Magdalen,  a 
large,  voluptuous  form,  with  her  brown  hair  fall- 
ing like  a  veil  over  her  shoulders  and  breast,  but 
in  her  upturned  countenance  one  can  sooner  read 
a  prayer  for  an  absent  lover  than  repentance  for 
sins  she  has  committed. 

What  could  excel  in  beauty  the  Madonna  della 
Sedia  of  Raphael !  It  is  another  of  those  works 
of  that  divine  artist,  on  which  we  gaze  and  gaze 
with  a  never-tiring  enjo^-ment  of  its  angelic 
beauty.  To  my  eye  it  is  faultless;  I  could  not 
wish  a  single  outline  of  form,  a  single  shade  of 
color  changed.  Like  his  unrivalled  Madonna  in 
the  Dresden  Gallery,  its  beauty  is  spiritual  as 
1  well  as  earthly;  and  while  gazing  on  the  glorious 


GALLERY  TO   TUB  GRAND  DUKE.        327 

countenance  of  the  Jesus-child,  I  feel  an  impulse 
I  can  scarcely  explain — a  longing  to  tear  it  from 
the  canvas  as  if  it  were  a  breathing  ibrm,  and 
clasp  it  to  my  heart  in  a  glow  of  passionate 
love.  What  a  sublime  inspiration  Raphael  wmst 
have  felt  when  he  painted  it !  Judging  from  its 
effects  on  the  beholder,  I  can  conceive  of  no 
higher  mental  excitement  than  that  re./uired  tc 
create  it. 

Here  are  also  some  of  the  finest  and  best  pre 
served  pictures  of  Salvator  Rosa,  ancV  his  por 
trait — a  wild  head,  full  of  spirit  a,nd  gonius.  Be 
sides  several  landscapes  in  his  sa.va^e  ant 
stormy  style,  there  are  two  large  sea- views,  ii. 
which  the  atmosphere  is  of  a  deep  and  exquisiti 
softness,  without  impairing  the  strength  and 
boldness  of  the  composition.  "A  Battle  Scene," 
is  terrible.  Hundreds  of  combatants  are  met  in 
the  shock  and  struggle  of  conflict.  Horses, 
mailed  knights,  vassals  are  mixed  together  in 
wild  confusion;  banners  are  waving  and  lances 
flashing  amid  the  dust  and  smoke,  while  the 
wounded  and  dying  are  trodden  under  foot  in 
darkness  and  blood.  I  now  first  begin  to  com- 
prehend the  power  and  sublimity  of  his  genius. 
From  the  wild  ness  and  gloom  of  his  pictures,  he 
might  almost  be  called  the  Byron  of  painters. 

There  is  a  small  group  of  the  "  Fates,"  by  Mi- 
chael Angel o,  which  is  one  of  the  best  of  the  few 
pictures  which  remain  of  him.  As  is  well  known, 
he  disliked  the  art,  saying  it  was  only  fit  for 
women.  This  picture  shows,  however,  how 
much  higher  he  might  have  gone,  had  he  been  so 
inclined.  The  three  weird  sisters  are  ghostly 
and  awful — the  one  who  stands  behind,  holding 
the  distaff,  almost  frightful.  She  who  stands 
ready  to  cut  the  thread  as  it  is  spun  out,  has  a 
slight  trace  of  pity  on  her  fixed  and  unearthly 
lineaments.  It  is  n  faithful  embodiment  of  the 
old  Greek  idea  of  the  Fates.  I  have  wondered 
why  some  artist  has  not  attempted  the  subject 


828  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

in  a  different  way.  In  the  Northern  Mythology 
they  are  represented  as  wild  maidens,  armed 
with  swords  and  mounted  on  fiery  coursers.  Why 
might  they  not  also  be  pictured  as  angels,  with 
countenances  of  a  sublime  and  mysterioup 
beauty — one  all  radiant  with  hope  and  promise 
of  glory,  and  one  with  the  token  of  a  better  fu- 
ture mingled  with  the  sadness  with  which  it 
severs  the  links  of  life  ? 

There  are  many,  many  other  splendid  works 
in  this  collection,  but  it  is  unnecessary  to  men- 
tion them.  I  have  only  endeavored,  by  taking 
a  few  of  the  best  known,  to  give  some  idea  of 
them  as  they  appear  to  me.  There  are  hundreds 
of  pictures  here,  which,  though  gems  in  them- 
selves, are  by  masters  who  are  rarely  heard  of 
in  America,  and  it  would  be  of  little  interest  to 
go  through  the  Gallery,  describing  it  in  guide- 
book fashion.  Indeed,  to  describe  galleries, 
however  rich  and  renowned  they  may  be,  is  in 
general  a  work  of  so  much  difficulty,  that  I 
know  not  whether  the  writer  or  the  reader  is 
made  most  tired  thereby. 

This  collection  possesses  also  the  celebrated 
statue  of  Venus,  by  Canova.  She  stands  in  the 
centre  of  a  little  apartment,  filled  with  the  most 
delicate  and  graceful  works  of  painting.  Al- 
though undoubtedly  a  figure  of  great  beauty,  it 
by  no  means  struck  me  as  possessing  that  ex- 
quisite and  classic  perfection  which  has  been 
ascribed  to  it.  The  Venus  de  Medici  far  sur- 
passes it.  The  head  is  larger  in  proportion  to 
the  size  of  the  body,  than  tliat  of  the  latter,  but 
has  not  the  same  modest,  virgin  expression. 
The  arm  wrapped  in  the  robe  which  she  is  press- 
ing to  her  breast,  is  finely  executed,  but  the 
fingers  of  the  other  hand  are  bad — looking,  as 
my  friend  said,  as  if  the  ends  were  whittled  off! 
The  body  is,  however,  of  fine  proportions, 
though,  taken  as  a  whole,  the  statue  is  inferioi 
to  many  other  of  Canova's  works. 


CHILDREN.  32fc 

Occupying  all  the  hill  back  of  the  Pitti  Palace, 
are  the  Boboli  Gardens,  three  times  a  week  the 
great  resort  of  the  Florentines.  They  are  said 
to  be  the  most  beautiful  gardens  in  Italy.  Num- 
berless paths,  diverging  from  a  magnificent 
amphitheatre  in  the  old  Roman  style,  opposite 
the  court-yard,  lead  either  in  long  flights  of 
steps  and  terraces,  or  gentle  windings  among 
beds  sweet  with  roses,  to  the  summit.  Long 
avenues,  entirely  arched  and  interwoven  with 
the  thick  foliage  of  the  laurel,  which  here  grows 
to  a  tree,  stretch  along  the  slopes  or  wind  in  the 
woods  through  thickets  of  the  fragrant  bay. 
Parterres,  rich  with  flowers  and  shrubbery,  alter- 
nate with  delightful  groves  of  the  Italian  pine, 
acacia  and  laurel-leaved  oak,  and  along  the  hill- 
side, gleaming  among  the  foliage,  are  placed 
statues  of  marble,  some  of  which  are  from  the 
chisels  of  Michael  Angelo  and  Bandinelli.  In  one 
part  there  is  a  little  sheet  of  water,  with  an 
island  of  orange-trees  in  the  centre,  from  which 
a  broad  avenue  of  cypresses  and  statues  lead  to 
the  very  summit  of  the  hill. 

We  often  go  there  to  watch  the  sun  set  over 
Florence  and  the  vale  of  the  Arno.  The  palace 
lies  directly  below,  and  a  clump  of  pine-trees  on 
the  hillside,  that  stand  out  in  bold  relief  on  the 
glowing  sky,  makes  the  foreground  to  one  of 
the  loveliest  pictures  this  side  of  the  Atlantic.  I 
saw  one  afternoon  the  Grand  Duke  and  his 
family  get  into  their  carriage  to  drive  out.  One 
of  the  little  dukes,  who  seemed  a  mischievous 
imp,  ran  out  on  a  projection  of  the  portico, 
where  considerable  persuasion  had  to  be  used  to 
induce  him  to  jump  into  the  arms  of  his  royal 
papa.  I  turned  from  these  titled  infants  to 
watch  a  group  of  beautiful  American  children 
playing,  for  my  attention  was  drawn  to  them  by 
the  sound  of  familiar  words,  and  I  learned  after- 
wards they  were  the  children  of  the  sculptor 
Powers.  I  contrasted  involuntarilvthe  destinies 


330  VIEWS  A -FOOT. 

ofeach; — onetothe  enjoyment  and  proud  energy 
of  freedom,  and  one  to  the  confining  and  vitiat- 
ing atmosphere  of  a  court.  The  merry  voices  of 
the  latter,  as  the}7  played  on  the  grass,  came  to 
my  ears  most  gratefully.  There  is  nothing  so 
sweet  as  to  hear  one's  native  tongue  in  a  for- 
eign land  from  the  lips  of  children ! 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  VALLOMBROSA. 

A  pilgrimage  to  Vallombrosa ! — in  sooth  it  has 
a  romantic  sound.  The  phrase  calls  up  images 
of  rosaries,  and  crosses,  and  shaven-headed  friars. 
Had  we  lived  in  the  olden  days,  such  things  might 
verily  have  accompanied  our  journey  to  that 
holy  monastery.  We  might  then  have  gone  bore- 
foot,  saying  prayers  as  we  toiled  alongthe banks 
of  the  Arno  and  up  the  steep  Apennines,  as  did 
Benevenuto  Cellini,  before  he  poured'  the  melted 
bronze  into  the  mould  of  his  immortal  Perseus. 
But  we  are  pilgrims  to  the  shrines  of  Art  and  Gen- 
ius; the  dwelling-places  of  great  minds  are  our 
sanctuaries.  The  mean  dwelling,  in  which  a  poet 
has  battled  do\vn  poverty  with  the  ecstasy  of  his 
mighty  conceptions,  and  the  dungeon  in  which  a 
persecuted  philosopher  has  lauquished,  me  tons 
sacred;  we  turn  aside  from  the  palaces  of  kings 
and  the  battle-fields  of  conquerors,  to  visit  them. 
The  famed  miracles  of  San  Giovanni  Gaulberto 
added  little,  in  our  eyes,  to  the  interest  of  Val- 
lombrosa, but  there  were  reverence  and  inspira- 
tion in  the  names  of  Dante.  Milton,  and  Ariosto. 

We  left  Florence  early,  taking  the  way  that 
leads  from  the  Porta  della  Croce,  up  the  north 
bank  of  the  Aron.  It  was  a  bright  morning,  but 


PEASANTS  Of  THE  APENNINES.       381 


there  was  a  shade  of  vapor  on  the  hills, 
practised  eye  might  have  taken  as  a  prognostic 
of  the  rain  that  too  soon  came  on.  Fiesole,  with 
its  tower  and  Acropolis,  stood  out  brightly  fron? 
the  blue  background,  and  the  hill  of  San  Miniate* 
lay  with  its  cypress  groves  in  the  softest  morning 
light.  The  Contadini  were  driving  into  the  city 
in  their  basket  wagons,  and  there  were  some  faif 
young  faces  among  them,  that  made  us  think  Ital- 
ian beauty  was  not  altogether  in  the  imagine 
tion. 

After  walking  three  or  four  miles,  we  entered 
the  Apennines,  keeping  along  the  side  of  the 
Arno,  whose  bed  is  more  than  half  dried  up 
from  the  long  summer  heats.  The  mountain 
sides  were  covered  with  vineyards,  glowing  with 
their  wealth  of  white  and  purple  grapes,  but  the 
summits  were  naked  and  barren.  We  passed 
through  the  little  town  of  Ponte  Sieve,  at  the 
entrance  of  a  romantic  valley,  where  our  view 
of  the  Arno  was  made  more  interesting  by  the 
lofty  range  of  the  Apennines,  amid  whose  forests 
we  could  see  the  white  front  of  the  monastery 
of  Vallombrosa.  But  the  clouds  sank  low  and 
hid  it  from  sight,  and  the  rain  came  on  so  hard 
that  we  were  obliged  to  take  shelter  occasion  ally 
in  the  cottages  by  the  wayside.  In  one  of  these 
we  made  a  dinner  of  the  hard,  black  bread  of 
the  country,  rendered  palatable  by  the  addition 
of  mountain  cheese  and  some  chips  of  an  an- 
tique Bologna  sausage.  We  were  much  amused 
in  conversing  with  the  simple  hosts  and  their 
ehy,  gipsy-like  children,  one  of  whom,  a  dark- 
eyed,  curly-haired  boy,  bore  the  name  of 
.Raphael.  We  also  became  acquainted  with  a 
shoemaker  and  his  family,  who  owned  a  little 
olive  orchard  and  vineyard,  which  they  said  pro- 
duced enough  to  support  them.  Wishing  to 
know  how  mu<-h  a  family  of  six  consumed  in  a 
year,  we  inquired  the  yield  of  their  property. 
They  answered,  twenty  small  barrels  of  wine, 


832  V1&WS  A- FOOT. 

and  ten  of  oil.  It  was  nearly  sunset  when  we 
reached  Pellago,  and  the  wet  walk  and  coarse 
fare  \ve  were  obliged  to  take  on  the  road,  well 
qualified  us  to  enjoy  the  excellent  supper  the 
pleasant  landlady  gave  us. 

This  little  town  is  among  the  Apennines,  at 
the  foot  of  the  magnificent  mountain  of  Vollam- 
brosa.  What  a  blessing  it  was  for  Milton,  that 
he  saw  its  loveliness  before  his  eyes  closed  on 
this  beautiful  earth,  and  gained  from  it  another 
hue  in  which  to  dip  his  pencil,  when  he  painted 
the  bliss  of  Eden  I  I  watched  the  hills  all  day  as 
we  approached  them,  and  thought  how  often  his 
eyes  had  rested  on  their  outlines,  and  how  he 
*iad  carried  their  forms  in  his  memory  for  many 
>  sunless  year.  The  banished  Dante,  too,  had 
trodden  them,  flying  from  his  ungrateful  coun- 
try ;  and  many  another,  whose  genius  has  made 
oim  a  beacon  in  the  dark  sea  of  the  world's  his- 
tory. It  is  one  of  those  places  where  the  enjoy- 
ment is  all  romance,  and  the  blood  thrills  as  WTC 
cjaze  upon  it. 

"We  started  early  next  morning,  crossed  the 
ravine,  and  took  the  well-payed  way  to  the  mon- 
astery along  the  mountain  side.  The  stones  are 
worn  smooth  by  the  sleds  in  which  ladies  and 
provisions  are  conveyed  up,  drawn  by  the  beau- 
tiful white  Tuscan  oxen.  The  hills  are  covered 
with  luxuriant  chestnut  and  oak  trees,  of  those 
picturesque  forms  which  they  only  wear  in  Italy: 
one  wild  dell  in  particular  is  much  resorted  to  by 
painters  for  the  ready-made  foregrounds  it  sup- 
plies. Further  on,  we  passed  thePaterno,  a  rich 
farm  belonging  to  the  Monks.  The  vines  which 
hung  from  tree  to  tree,  were  almost  breaking  be- 
neath clusters  as  heavy  and  rich  as  those  which 
the  children  of  Israel  bore  on  staves  from  the 
Promised  Land.  Of  their  flavor,  we  can  say, 
from  experience,  they  were  worthy  to  have  grown 
in  Paradise.  We  then  entered  a"  deep  dell  of  the 
mountain,  where  little  shepherd  girls  were 


VALLOMBROSA.  333 

ting  oh  the  rocks  tending  their  sheep  and  spin- 
ning with  their  fingers  from  a  distaff',  in  the  same 
manner,  doubtless,  as  the  Roman  shepherdess 
two  thousand  years  ago.  Gnarled,  gray  olive 
trees,  centuries  old,  grew  upon  the  bare  soil,  and 
a  little  rill  fell  in  a  tiny  cataract  down  the  glen. 
By  a  mill,  in  one  of  the  coolest  and  wildest 
nooks  I  ever  saw,  two  of  us  acted  the  part,  of 
water  spirits  under  one  of  these,  to  the  great 
astonishment  of  four  peasants,  who  watched  us 
from  a  distance. 

Beyond,  our  road  led  through  forests  of  chest- 
nut and  oak,  and  a  broad  view  of  mountain  and 
vale  lay  below  us.  We  asked  a  peasant  boy  we 
met,  how  much  land  the  Monks  of  Vallombrosa 
possessed.  "All  that  you  see!'1''  was  the  reply. 
The  dominion  of  the  good  fathers  reached  once 
even  to  the  gates  of  Florence.  At  length,  about 
aoon,  we  emerged  from  the  woods  into  a  broad 
avenue  leading  across  a  lawn,  at  whose  extrem- 
ity stood  the  massive  buildings  of  the  monas- 
tery. On  the  rock  that  towered  above  it  was  the 
Paradisino,  beyond  which  rose  the  mountain, 
covered  with  forests — 

"  Shade  above  shade,  a  woody  theatre, 
Of  stateliest  view" — 

as  Milton  describes  it.  We  were  met  at  the  en- 
trance by  a  young  monk  in  cowl  and  cassock,  to 
whom  we  applied  for  permission  to  stay  till  the 
next  day,which  was  immediately  given.  Brother 
Placido  (for  that  was  his  name)  then  asked  us 
if  we  would  not  have  dinner.  We  replied  that 
our  appetites  wrere  none  the  worse  for  climbing 
the  mountain  ;  and  in  half  an  hour  sat  down  to 
a  dinner,  the  liko  of  which  we  had  not  seen  for  a 
long  time.  Verily,  thought  I,  it  must  be  a  pleas- 
ant thing  to  be  a  monk,  after  all ! — that  is,  a 
monk  of  Vallombrosa. 

In  the  afternoon  we  walked  through  a  grand 
pine  forest  to  the  western  brow  of  the  mountain, 


where  a  view  opened  which  it  would  require  a 
wonderful  power  of  the  imagination  for  you  to 
Bee  in  fancy,  as  I  did  in  reality.  From  the  height 
where  we  stood,  the  view  was  uninterrupted  tc 
the  Mediterranean,  a  distance  of  more  than 
seventy  miles ;  a  valley  watered  by  a  branch  of 
the  Arno  swept  far  to  the  east,  to  the  mountains 
near  the  Lake  of  Thrasymene ;  northwestwards 
the  hills  of  Carrara  bordered  the  horizon;  the 
space  between  these  wide  points  was  filled  with 
mountains  and  valleys,  all  steeped  in  that  soft 
blue  mist  which  makes  Italian  landscapes  more 
like  heavenly  visions  than  realities.  Florence 
was  visible  afar  off,  and  the  current  of  the  Arno 
flashed  in  the  sun.  A  cool  and  almost  chilling 
wind  blew  constantly  over  the  mountain,  al- 
though the  country  "below  basked  in  summer 
heat.  We  lay  on  the  rocks,  and  let  our  souls 
luxuriate  in  the  lovely  scene  till  near  sunset. 
Brother  Placido  brought  us  supper  in  the  even- 
<ng,  with  his  ever-smiling  countenance,  and  we 
Boon  after  went  to  our  beds  in  the  neat,  plain 
chambers,  to  get  rid  of  the  unpleasant  coldness. 
Next  morning  it  was  damp  and  misty,  and 
thick  clouds  rolled  down  the  forests  towards  the 
convent.  I  set  out  for  the  ''Little  Paradise," 
taking  in  my  way  the  pretty  cascade  which  falls 
some  fifty  feet  down  the  rocks.  The  building  is 
not  now  as  it  was  when  Milton  lived  here,  hav- 
ing been  rebuilt  within  a  short  time.  I  found  no 
one  there,  and  satisfied  my  curiosity  by  climbing 
over  the  wall  and  looking  in  at  the  windows.  A 
little  chapel  stands  in  a  cleft  of  the  rock  below, 
to  mark  the  miraculous  escape  of  St.  John  Gual- 
berto,  founder  of  the  monastery.  Being  one  day 
very  closely  pursued  by  the  Devil,  he  took  shelter 
under  the  rock,  which  immediately  became  soft 
and  admitted  him  into  it,  while  the  fiend,  unable 
to  stop,  was  precipitated  over  the  steep.  All  this 
is  rela/ed  in  a  Latin  inscription,  and  we  saw  a 
large  hollow  in  the  rock  near,  which  must  have 


LEGEND  OF  THE  CHAPEL.  338 

been  intended  for  the  imprint  left  by  his  sacred 
person. 

One  of  the  monks  told  us  another  legend,  con- 
cerning a  little  chapel  which  stands  alone  on  a 
wild  part  of  the  mountain,  above  a  rough  pile 
of  crags,  called  the  "Peak  of  the  Devil.  "In 
the  time  of  San  Giovanni  Gualbeito,  the  holy 
founder  of  our  order,"  said  he,  "there  was  a 
young  man,  of  a  noble  family  in  Florence,  who 
was  so  moved  by  the  words  of  the  saintly  father, 
that  he  forsook  the  world,  wherein  he  had  lived 
with  great  luxury  and  dissipation,  and  became 
monk.  But,  after  a  time,  being  young  and 
tempted  again  by  the  pleasures  he  had  re- 
nounced, he  put  off  the  sacred  garments.  The 
holy  San  Giovanni  Avarned  him  of  the  terrible 
danger  in  which  he  stood,  and  at  length  the 
wicked  young  man  returned.  It  was  not  a  great 
while,  however,  before  he  became  dissatisfied, 
and  in  spite  all  holy  counsel,  did  the  same  thing 
again.  But  behold  what  happened !  As  he  was 
walking  along  the  peak  where  the  chapel  stands, 
thinking  nothing  of  his  great  crime,  the  devil 
sprang  suddenly  from  behind  a  rock,  and  catch- 
ing the  young  man  in  his  arms,  before  he  could 
escape,  carried  him  with  a  dreadful  noise  and  a 
great  red  flame  and  smoke  over  the  precipice,  so 
that  he  was  never  afterwards  seen." 

The  church  attached  to  the  monastery  is  small, 
but  very  solemn  and  venerable.  I  went  several 
times  to  muse  in  its  still,  gloomy  aisle,  and  hear 
the  murmuring  chant  of  the  Monks,  who  went 
through  their  exercises  in  some  of  the  chapels. 
At  one  time  I  saw  them  all,  in  long  black  cas- 
socks, much  in  solemn  order  to  the  chapel  of 
St.  John  Gualberto,  where  they  sang  a  deep 
chant,  which  to  me  had  something  awful  and 
sepulchral  in  it.  Behind  the  high  altar  I  saw 
their  black,  carved  chairs  of  polished  oak,  with 
ponderous  gilded  foliants  lying  on  the  rails  be- 
fore them.  The  attendant  opened  one  of  these. 


3J6  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

that  we  might  see  the  manuscript  notes,  three  oi 
four  centuries  old,  from  which  they  sung. 

We  were  much  amused  in  looking  through  two 
or  three  Italian  books,  which  were  lying  in  the 
traveller's  room.  One  of  these  which  our  friend 
Mr.  Tandy,  of  Kentucky,  read,  described  the 
miracles  of  the  patron  saint  with  an  air  of  the 
most  ridiculous  solemnity.  The  other  was  a  de- 
scription of  the  Monastery,  its  foundation,  his- 
tory,  etc.  In  mentioning  its  great  and  far- 
spread  renown,  the  author  stated  that  even  an 
English  poet,  by  the  name  of  Milton,  had  men- 
tioned it  in  the  following  lines,  which  I  copied 
rerbatim  from  the  book : 

*'  Thick  as  autumnal  scaves  that  strow  she  brooks 
In  vallombrosa,  whereth  Etruian  Jadea 
Stigh  over  orch  d'embrover  ! " 

In  looking  over  the  stranger's  book,  I  found 
among  the  names  of  my  countrymen,  that  of 
B.  V.  Clevenger,  the  talented  and  lamented  sculp- 
tor who  died  at  sea  on  his  passage  home.  There 
were  also  the  names  of  Mrs.  Shelley  and  the 
Princess  Potemkin,  and  I  sa.w  written  on  the 
wall,  the  autograph  of  Jean  Reboul,  the  cele- 
brated modern  French  poet.  We  were  so  de- 
lighted with  the  place  we  would  have  stayed  an- 
other day,  but  for  fear  of  trespassing  too  much 
on  the  lavish  and  unceasing  hospitality  of  the 
good  fathers. 

So  in  the  afternoon  we  shook  hands  with 
Brother  Placido,  and  turned  our  backs  regret- 
fully upon  one  of  the  loneliest  and  loveliest 
spots  of  which  earth  can  boast.  The  sky  be- 
came gradually  clear  as  we  descended,  and  the 
mist  raised  itself  from  the  distant  mountains. 
We  ran  down  through  the  same  chestnut  groves, 
diverging  a  little  to  go  through  the  vilfage  of 
Tosi,  which  is  very  picturesque  when  seen  from 
a  distance,  but  extremely  dirty  to  one  passing 
through.  I  stopped  in  the  ravine  below  to  take 


SUNSE'2  AMtiJ^  jLriE  MOUNTAINS.     337 

a  sketch  of  the  mill  and  bridge,  and  as  we  sat, 
the  line  of  golden  sunlight  rose  higher  on  the 
mountains  above.  On  walking  down  the  shady 
side  of  this  glen,  we  were  enraptured  with  the 
scenery.  A  brilliant  vet  mellow  glow  lay  over 
the  whole  opposing  height,  lighting  up  the 
houses  of  Tosi  and  the  white  cottages  half  seen 
among  the  olives,  while  the  mountain  ol 
Vallombrosa  stretched  far  heavenward  like  a 
sunny  painting,  with  only  a  misty  wreath  float- 
ing and  waving  around  its  summit.  The  glossy 
foliage  of  the  chestnuts  was  made  still  brighter 
by  the  warm  light,  and  the  old  olives  softened 
down  into  a  silvery  gray,  whose  contrast  gave 
the  landscape  a  character  of  the  mellowest 
beauty.  As  we  wound  out  of  the  deep  glen,  the 
broad  valleys  and  ranges  of  the  Apennines  lay 
before  us,  forests,  castles  and  villages  steeped  in 
the  soft,  vapory  blue  of  the  Italian  atmosphere, 
and  the  current  of  the  Arno  flashing  like  a 
golden  belt  through  the  middle  of  the  picture. 

The  sun  was  nearly  down,  and  the  mountains 
just  below  him  were  of  a  deep  purple  hue,  while 
those  that  ran  out  to  the  eastward  wore  the 
most  aerial  shade  of  blue.  A  few  scattered 
clouds,  floating  above,  soon  put  on  the  sunset 
robe  of  orange  and  a  band  of  the  same  soft 
color encircleothe  western  horizon.  It  did  not 
reach  half  way  to  the  zenith,  however;  the  sky 
above  was  blue,  of  such  a  depth  and  transpar- 
ency, that  to  gaze  upward  was  like  looking  into 
eternity.  Then  how  softly  and  soothingly  the 
twilight  came  on!  How  deep  a  hush  sank  on 
the  chestnut  glades,  broken  only  by  the  song  of 
the  cicada,  chirping  its  "good-night  carol!" 
The  mountains,  too,  how  majestic  they  stood 
in  their  dec])  purple  outlines!  Sweet,  sweet 
Italy!  I  can  feel  now  how  the  soul  may  cling  to 
thee,  since  thou  canst  thus  gratify  its  insatiable 
thirst  for  the  Beautiful.  Even  thy  plainest 
scene  is  clothed  in  hues  that  seem  borrowed  of 


338  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

heaven !  In  the  twilight,  more  radiant  than 
light,  and  the  stillness,  more  eloquent  than 
music,  which  sink  down  over  the  sunny  beauty 
of  thy  shores,  there  is  a  silent,  intense  poetry 
that  stirs  the  soul  through  all  its  impassioned 
depths.  With  warm,  blissful  tears  filling  the 
eyes  and  a  heart  overflowing  with  its  own  bright 
fancies,  I  wander  in  the  solitude  and  calm  of 
such  a  time,  and  love  thee  as  if  I  were  a  child  of 
thy  soil ! 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

WALK    TO    8IENA    AND     PRATOLINO— INCIDENTS   IN 
FLORENCE. 

October  16. — My  cousin,  being  anxious  to  visit 
Rome,  and  reach  Heidelberg  before  the  com- 
mencement of  the  winter  semestre,  set  out  to- 
wards the  end  of  September,  on  foot.  We  ac- 
companied him  as  far  as  Siena,  forty  miles  dis- 
tant. As  I  shall  most  probably  take  another 
road  to  the  Eternal  City,  the  present  is  a  good 
opportunity  to  say  something  of  that  romantic 
old  town,  so  famous  throughout  Italy  for  the 
honesty  of  its  inhabitants. 

We  dined  the  first  day  seventeen  miles  from 
Florence,  at  Tavenella,  where,  for  a  meagre  din- 
ner the  hostess  had  the  assurance  to  ask  us 
seven  pauls.  We  told  her  we  would  give  but  four 
and  a  half,  and  by  assuming  a  decided  manner, 
with  a  plentiful  use  of  the  word  "Signora"  sho 
was  persuaded  to  be  fully  satisfied  with  the  lat- 
ter sum.  From  a  height  i*ear,  we  could  see  the 
mountains  coasting  the  Mediterranean, 


A   COUNTRT  INN.  339 

shortly  after,  on  descending  a  long  hill,  the  little 
town  of  Poggibonsi  lay  in  the  warm  afternoon 
light,  on  an  eminence  before  us.  It  was  soon 
passed  with  its  dusky  towers,  then  Stagia  look- 
ing desolate  in  its  ruined  and  ivied  walls,  and 
following  the  advice  of  a  peasant,  we  stopped 
for  the  night  at  the  inn  of  Querciola.  As  we 
knew  something  of  Italian  by  this  time,  we 
thought  it  best  to  inquire  the  price  of  lodging, 
before  entering.  The  padrone  asked  if  we  meant 
to  take  supper  also.  We  answered  in  the  affirma- 
tive; "then,"  said  he,  "you  will  pay  half  a  paul 
(about  five  cents)  apiece  for  a  bed."  We  passed 
under  the  swinging  bunch  of  boughs,  which  in 
Italy  is  the  universal  sign  of  an  inn  for  the  com- 
mon people,  and  entered  the  bare,  smoky  room 
appropriated  to  travellers.  A  long  table,  with 
well-worn  benches,  were  the  only  furniture ;  we 
threw  our  knapsacks  on  one  end  of  it  and  sat 
down,  amusing  ourselves  while  supper  was  pre- 
paring, in  looking  at  a  number  of  grotesque 
charcoal  drawings  on  the  wall,  which  the  flaring 
light  of  our  tall  irou  lamp  revealed  to  us.  At 
length  the  hostess,  a  kindly-looking  woman, 
with  a  white  handkerchief  folded  gracefully 
around  her  head,  brought  us  a  dish  of  fried 
eggs,  which,  \vith  the  coarse  black  bread  of  the 
peasants  and  a  basket  full  of  rich  grapes,  made 
us  an  excellent  supper.  We  slept  on  mattresses 
stuffed  with  corn-husks,  placed  on  square  iron 
frames,  which  are  the  bedsteads  most  used  in 
Italy.  A  brightly  painted  caricature  of  some 
saint  or  rough  crucifix,,  trimmed  with  bay-leaves, 
hung  at  the  hea.d  of  each  bed,  and  under  their 
devout  protection  we  enjoyed  a  safe  and  un- 
broken slumber. 

Next  morning  we  set  out  early  to  complete  the 
remaining  ten  miles  to  Siena.  The  only  thing  of 
interest  on  the  road,  is  the  ruined  wall  and  bat- 
tlements of  Castiglione,  circling  a  high  hill  and 
looking  as  old  as  the  days  of  Etruria.  The 


340  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

towers  of  Siena  are  seen  at  some  distance,  but 
approaching  it  from  this  side,  the  traveller  does 
not  perceive  its  romantic  situation  until  he  ar- 
rives. It  stands  on  a  double  hill,  which  is  very 
steep  on  some  sides ;  the  hollow  between  the  two 
peaks  is  occupied  by  the  great  public  square,  ten 
or  fifteen  feet  lower  "than  the  rest  of  the  city.  AVe 
left  our  knapsacks  at  a  cafe  and  sought  the  cele- 
brated Cathedral,  which  stands  in  the  highest 
part  of  the  town,  forming  with  its  flat  dome  and 
lofty  marble  tower,  an  apex  to  the  pyramidal 
mass  of  buildings. 

The  interior  is  rich  and  elegantly  perfect. 
Every  part  is  of  black  and  white  marble,  in  what 
I  should  call  the  striped  style,  which  has  a  singu- 
lar but  agreeable  effect.  The  inside  of  the  dome 
and  the  vaulted  ceilings  of  the  chapels,  are  of 
blue,  with  golden  stars;  the  pavement  in  the 
centre  is  so  precious  a  work  that  it  is  kept  cov- 
ered with  boards  and  only  shown  once  a  year. 
There  are  some  pictures  of  great  value  in  this 
Cathedral;  one  of  "The  Descent  of  the  Dove," 
is  worthy  of  the  best  days  of  Italian  art.  In  an 
adjoining  chamber,  with  frescoed  walls,  and  a 
beautiful  tesselated  pavement,  is  the  library, 
consisting  of  a  fe\v  huge  old  volumes,  which  with 
their  brown  covers  and  brazen  clasps,  look  as 
much  like  a  collection  of  flat  leather  trunks  as 
any  thing  else.  In  the  centre  of  the  room  stands 
the  mutilated  group  of  the  Grecian  Graces,  found 
in  digging  the  foundation  of  the  Cathedral.  The 
figures  are  still  beautiful  and  graceful,  with  that 
exquisite  curve  of  outline  which  is  such  a  charm 
in  the  antique  statues.  Canova  has  only  per- 
fee-ted  the  idea  in  his  celebrated  group,  which  is 
nearly  a  copy  of  this. 

We  strolled  through  the  square  and  then  ac- 
companied our  friend  to  the  Roman  gate,  wberfe 
we  fcook  leave  of  him  for  six  months  at  least. 
He  felt  lonely  at  the  thought  of  walking  in  Italy 
without  a  companion,  but  was  cheered  by 


RETURN  TO  FLORENCE.  341 

the  anticipation  of  soon  reaching  Rome.  "We 
watched  him  awhile,  walking  rapidly  over  the 
hot  plain  towards  Radicofani,  and  then,  turning 
our  faces  with  much  pleasure  towards  Florence, 
we  commenced  the  return  walk.  I  must  not  for- 

fet  to  mention  the  delicious  grapes  which  we 
ought,  begged  and  stole  on  the  way.  The  whole 
country  is  like  one  vineyard — and  the  people 
live,  in  a  great  measure,  on  the  fruit,  during 
this  part  of  the  year.  Would  you  not  think  it 
highly  romantic  and  agreeable  to  sit  in  the  shade 
of  a  cypress  grove,  beside  some  old  weather- 
beaten  statues,  looking  out  over  the  vales  oi 
the  Apennines,  with  a  pile  of  white  and  purple 
grapes  beside  you,  the  like  of  which  can  scarcely 
be  had  in  America  for  love  or  money,  and  which 
had  been  given  you  by  a  dark-eyed  peasant  girl? 
If  so,  you  may  envy  us,  for  such  was  exactly  our 
situation  on  the  morning  before  reaching  Flor- 
ence. 

Being  in  the  Duomo,  two  or  three  days  ago,  I 
met  a  German  traveller,  who  has  walked  through 
Italy  thus  far,  and  intends  continuing  his  jour, 
ney  to  Rome  and  Naples.  His  name  is  You 
Raumer.  He  was  well  acquainted  with  the  pres- 
ent  state  of  America,  and  I  derived  much  pleas- 
ure from  his  intelligent  conversation.  We  con- 
cluded to  ascend  the  cupola  in  company.  Two 
black-robed  boys  led  the  way ;  after  climbing  an 
infinite  number  of  steps,  we  reached  the  gallery 
around  the  foot  of  the  dome.  The  glorioua 
view  of  that  paradise,  the  vale  of  the  Arno,  shut 
in  on  all  sides  by  mountains,  some  bare  and  des- 
olate, some  covered  with  villas,  gardens,  and 
groves,  lay  in  soft,  hazy  light,  with  the  shadowa 
of  a  few  light  clouds  moving  slowly  across  it. 
They  next  took  us  to  a  gallery  on  the  inside  of 
the  dome,  where  we  first  saw  the  imnien.sity  oV 
its  structure.  Only  from  a  distant  view,  or  io 
ascending  it,  can  one  really  measm-e  itr*  gran- 
deur. The  frescoetK  which  frorr.  below  appear 


S42  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

the  size  of  life,  are  found  to  be  rough  and  mon. 
strous  daubs;  each  figure  being  nearly  as  many 
fathoms  in  length  as  a  man  is  feet.  Continuing 
our  ascent,  we  mounted  between  the  inside  and 
outside  shells  of  the  dome.  It  was  indeed  a  bold 
idea  for  Brunelleschi  to  raise  such  a  mass  in  air. 
The  dome  of  Saint  Peter's  which  is  scarcely  as 
large,  was  not  made  until  a  century  after,  and 
this  was,  therefore,  the  first  attempt  at  raising 
one  on  so  grand  a  scale.  It  seems  still  as  solid 
RS  if  just  built. 

There  was  a  small  door  in  one  of  the  projec- 
tions of  the  lantern,  which  the  sacristan  told  us 
to  enter  and  ascend  still  higher.  Supposing 
there  was  a  fine  view  to  be  gained,  two  priests, 
who  had  just  come  up,  entered  it ;  the  German 
followed,  and  I  after  him.  After  crawling  in  at 
the  low  door,  we  found  ourselves  in  a  hollow 
pillar,  little  wider  than  our  bodies.  Looking 
up,  I  saw  the  German's  legs  just  above  my  head, 
while  the  other  two  were  above  him,  ascending 
by  means  of  little  iron  bars  fastened  in  the  mar- 
ble. The  priests  were  very  much  amused,  and 
the  German  said : — "This  is  the  first  time  I  ever 
learned  chimney-sweeping!"  We  emerged  at 
length  into  a  hollow  cone,  hot  and  dark,  with  a 
rickety  ladder  going  up  somewhere;  we  could 
not  see  where.  The  old  priest,  not  wishing  to 
trust  himself  to  it,  sent  his  younger  brother  up, 
and  we  shouted  after  him: — "What  kind  of  a 
view  have  you?"  He  climbed  up  till  the  cone 
got  so  narrow  he  could  go  no  further,  and  an- 
swered back  in  the  darkness: — "I  see  nothing 
at  all!"  Shortly  after  he  came  down,  covered 
with  dust  and  cobwebs,  and  we  all  descended 
the  chimney  quicker  than  we  went  up.  The  old 
priest  considered  it  a  good  joke,  and  laughed 
till  his  fat  sides  shook.  We  asked  the  sacristan 
why  he  sent  us  up,  and  lie  answered:— "To  see 
the  construction  of  the  Church  !" 

I  attended  service  in  the  Cathedral  one  dark, 


DUOMO  OF  FLORENCE.  84« 

rainy  morning,  ana  was  never  before  so  deeply 
impressed  with  the  majesty  and  grandeur  of  the 
mighty  edifice.  The  thick,  cloudy  atmosphere 
darkened  still  more  the  light  which  came  thro  ugh 
the  stained  windows,  and  a  solemn  twilight 
reigned  in  the  long  aisles.  The  mighty  dome 
sprang  far  aloft,  as  if  it  enclosed  a  part  oi 
heaven,  for  the  light  that  struggled  through  the 
windows  around  its  base,  lay  in  broad  bars  on 
the  blue,  hazy  air.  i  would  not  have  been  sur- 
prised at  seeing  a  cloud  float  along  within  it. 
The  lofty  burst  of  the  organ,  that  seemed  like 
the  pantings  of  a  monster,  boomed  echoing 
away  through  dome  and  nave,  with  a  chiming, 
metallic  vibration,  that  shook  the  massive 
pillars  which  it  would  defy  an  earthquake  to 
rend.  All  was  wrapped  in  dusky  obscurity,  ex- 
cept where,  in  the  side-chapels,  crowns  of  tapers 
were  burning  around  the  images.  One  knows 
not  which  most  to  admire,  the  genius  which 
could  conceive,  or  the  perseverance  which  could 
accomplish  such  a  work.  On  one  side  of  the 
square,  the  colossal  statue  of  the  architect, 
glorious  old  Brunelleschi,  is  most  appropriately 
placed,  looking  up  with  pride  at  his  perform- 
ance. 

Th  sunshine  and  genial  airs  of  Italy  have 
gone,  leaving  instead  a  cold,  gloomy  sky  and 
chilling  winds.  The  autumnal  season  has  fairly 
commenced,  and  I  s  ippose  I  must  bid  adieu  to 
th:-  brightness  which  made  me  in  love  with  the 
land.  The  change  has  been  no  less  sudden  than 
unpleasant,  and  if,  as  they  say,  it  will  continue 
all  winter  with  little  variation,  I  shall  have  to 
seek  a  clearer  climate.  In  the  cold  of  thesd 
European  winters,  there  is,  as  I  observed  lasi 
year  i..  Germany,  a  dull,  damp  chill,  quite  differ- 
ent frcm  the  braJng,  exhilarating  frosts  ot 
America,  It  stagnates  the  vital  principle  and 
leaves  the  limbs  dull  and  heavy,  with  a  lifeless 
feeling  which  can  scarcely  be  overcome  by  vigor- 


344  S2UWS  A-FOOf. 


ous  action.  At'  least,  such  has  been  my  e£. 
perience. 

We  lately  made  an  excursion  to  Pratolino,  on 
the  Apennines,  to  see  the  vintage  and  the  cele- 
brated colossus,  by  John  of  Bologna.  Leaving 
Florence  in  the  morning,  with  a  cool,  fresh  wind 
blowing  down  from  the  mountains,  we  began 
ascending  by  the  road  to  Bologna.  We  passed 
Fiesole  with  its  tower  and  acropolis  on  the  right, 
ascending  slowly,  with  the  bold  peak  of  one  of 
the  loftiest  Apennines  on  our  left.  The  abun- 
dant fruit  of  the  olive  was  beginning  to  turn 
brown,  and  the  grapes  were  all  gathered  in  from 
the  vineyards,  but  we  learned  from  a  peasant- 
boy  that  the  vintage  was  not  finished  at  Prato- 
lino. 

We  finally  arrived  at  an  avenue  shaded  with 
sycamores,  leading  to  the  royal  park.  The  vint- 
agers were  busy  in  the  fields  around,  unloading 
the  vines  of  their  purple  tribute,  and  many  a 
laugh  and  jest  among  the  merry  peasants  en- 
livened the  toil.  We  assisted  them  in  disposing 
of  some  fine  clusters,  and  then  sought  the 
"Colossus  of  the  Apennines."  He  stands  above 
a  little  lake,  at  the  head  of  a  long  mountain- 
slope,  broken  with  clumps  of  magnificent  trees. 
This  remarkable  figure,  the  work  of  John  of  Bo- 
logna, impresses  one  like  a  relic  of  the  Titans. 
He  is  represented  as  half-kneeling,  supporting 
himself  with  one  hand,  while  the  other  is  pressed 
upon  the  head  of  a  dolphin,  from  which  a  little 
stream  falls  into  the  lake.  The  height  of  the 
figure  when  erect,  would  amount  to  more  than 
sixty  feet  !  W  ?  measured  one  of  the  feet,  which 
is  a  single  piece  of  rock,  about  eight  feet  long; 
from  the  ground  to  the  top  of  one  knee  is  nearly 
twenty  feet.  The  limbn  are  formed  of  pieces  of 
stone,  joined  together,  and  the  body  of  stone 
and  brick.  His  rough  hair  and  eyebrows,  and 
the  beard,  which  reached  nearly  to  the  ground, 
are  formed  of  stalactites,  taken  from  caves, 


ITALIAN  GRAPE   WINE.  346 

and  fastened  together  m  a  dripping  and  crusted 
mass.  These  hung  also  from  his  limbs  and  body, 
and  gave  him  the  appearance  of  Winter  in  his 
mail  of  icicles.  By  climbing  up  the  rocks  at  his 
back,  we  entered  his  body,  which  contains  a 
small-sized  room ;  it  was  even  possible  to  ascend 
through  his  neck  and  look  out  at  his  ear !  The 
Face  is  in  keeping  with  the  figure — stern  and 
p^and,  and  the  architect  (one  can  hardly  say 
<culptor)  has  given  to  it  the  majestic  air  and 
sublimity  of  the  Apennines.  But  who  can  build 
yp  an  image  of  the  Alp? 

We  visited  the  factory  on  the  estate,  where 
vine  and  oil  are  made.  The  men  had  just 
brought  in  a  cart-load  of  large  wooden  vessels, 
filled  with  grapes,  which  they  were  mashing  with 
heavy  wooden  pestles.  When  the  grapes  were 
pretty  well  reduced  to  pulp  and  juice,  they 
emptied  them  into  an  enormous  tun,  which  they 
told  us  would  be  covered  air-tight,  and  left 
for  three  or  four  weeks,  after  which  the  wine 
would  be  drawn  off  at  the  bottom.  They  showed 
as  also  a  great  stone  mill  for  grinding  olives ; 
this  estate  of  the  Grand  Duke  produces  five  hun- 
dred barrels  of  wine  and  a  hundred  and  fifty  of 
oil,  every  year.  The  former  article  is  the  uni- 
versal beverage  of  the  laboring  classes  in  Italy, 
or  I  might  say  of  all  classes ;  it  is,  however,  the 
pure  blood  of  the  grape,  and  although  used  in 
such  quantities,  one  sees  little  drunkenness — far 
less  than  in  our  own  land. 

Tuscany  enjoys  at  present  a  more  liberal  gov- 
ernment than  any  other  part  of  Italy,  and  the  peo- 
ple are,  in  many  respects,  prosperous  and  happy. 
The  Grand  Duke,  although  enjoying  almost 
absolute  privileges,  is  disposed  to  encourage 
every  measure  which  may  promote  the  welfare 
of  his  subjects.  The  people  are,  indeed^  very 
heavily  taxed,  but  this  is  less  severely  felt  by 
them,  than  it  would  be  by  the  inhabitants  of 
colder  climes.  The  soil  produces  with  little 


H46  VIE  WS  A-FO  O  T. 

labor  all  that  is  necessary  for  their  support; 
though  kept  constantly  in  ;>  slate  of  eomjiara- 
tive  poverty,  they  appear  satisfied  with  their  lot, 
and  rarely  look  further  than  the  necessities  of 
the  present.  In  love  with  the  delightful  climate, 
they  cherish  their  country,  fallen  as  she  is,  and 
are  rarely  induced  to  leave  her.  Even  the 
wealthier  classes  of  the  Itah'ans  travel  very 
little ;  they  can  learn  the  manners  and  habi  is  of 
foreigners'nearly  as  well  in  their  own  country  as 
elsewhere,  and  they  prefer  their  own  hills  of  olive 
and  vine  to  the  icy  grandeur  of  the  Alps  or  the 
rich  and  garden-like  beauty  of  England. 

But,  although  this  sweet  climate,  with  its 
wealth  of  sunlight  and  balmy  airs,  may  enchant 
the  traveller  for  awhile  and  make  him  wish  at 
times  that  his  whole  life  might  be  spent  am  id  such 
scenes,  it  exercises  a  most  enervating  influence 
on  those  who  are  born  to  its  enjoyment.  It  re- 
laxes mental  and  physical  energy,  and  disposes 
body  and  mind  to  dreamy  inactivity.  The  Ital- 
ians, as  a  race,  are  indolent  and  effeminate.  Of 
the  moral  dignity  of  man  they  have  little  con- 
ception. Those  classes  who  are  engaged  in  act- 
ive occupation  seem  even  destitute  of  common 
honesty,  practising  all  kinds  of  deceits  in  the 
most  open  manner  and  apparently  without  the 
least  shame.  The  state  of  morals  is  lower  than 
in  any  other  country  of  Europe;  what  little  vir- 
tue exists  is  found  among  the  peasants.  Many 
of  the  most  sacred  obligations  of  society  are 
universally  violated,  and  as  a  natural  conse- 
quence, the  people  are  almost  entire  strangers 
to  that  domestic  happiness  which  constitutes 
the  true  enjoyment  Of  life. 

This  dark  shadow  in  the  moral  atmosphere  of 
Italy  hangs  like  a  cmse  on  her  beautiful  soil, 
weakening  the  sympathies  of  citizens  of  freer 
lands  with  her  fallen  condition.  I  often  feel  viv- 
idly the  sentiment  which  Percival  puts  into  the 
mouth  of  a  Greek  in  slavery: 


TtfE  FLORENTINE  RACES.  34? 

"The  spring  may  here  with  autumn  twine 
And  both  combined  may  rule  the  year, 
And  fresh-blown  flowers  and  racy  wine 

In  frosted  clusters  still  be  near — 
Dearer  the  wild  and  snowy  hills 
Where  hale  and  ruddy  Freedom  smiles." 

No  people  can  ever  become  truly  great  01 
free,  who  are  not  virtuous.  If  the  soul  aspiir.- 
for  liberty— pure  and  perfect  liberty — it  also  as- 
pires for  everything  that  is  noble  in  Truth,  ev- 
erything that  is  holy  in  Virtue.  It  is  greatly  to 
be  feared  that  all  those  nervous  and  impatient 
efforts  which  have  been  made  and  are  still  being 
made  by  the  Italian  people  to  better  their  condi- 
1  ion,  will  be  of  little  avail,  until  they  set  up  a  bet- 
ter standard  of  principle  and  make  their  private 
actions  more  conformable  with  their  ideas  of 
political  independence. 

Oct.  22. — I  attended  to-day  the  fall  races  at 
the  Caserne.  This  is  a  dairy  "farm  of  the  Grand 
Duke  on  the  Arno,  below  the  city ;  part  of  it, 
nhaded  with  magnificent  trees,  has  been  made 
into  a  public  promenade  and  drive,  which  ex- 
tends for  three  miles  down  the  river.  Towards 
the  lower  end,  on  a  smooth  green  lawn,  is  the 
i  ace-course.  To-day  was  the  last  of  the  season, 
for  which  the  best  trials  had  been  reserved ;  on 
passing  out  the  gate  at  noon,  we  found  a  num- 
ber of  carriages  and  pedestrians  going  the  same 
way.  It  was  the  very  perfection  of  autumn  tem- 
perature, and  I  do  not  remember  to  have  ever 
seen  so  blue  hills,  so  green  meadows,  so  fresh 
air  and  so  bright  sunshine  combined  in  one 
scene  before.  All  that  gloom  and  coldness  ol 
which  I  lately  complained  has  vanished. 

Travelling  increases  very  much  one's  capacity 
for  admiration.  Every  beautiful  scene  appears 
as  beautiful  as  if  it  had  been  the  first;  and  al- 
though I  may  havo  seen  a  hundred  times  as 
lovely  a  combination  of  sky  and  landscape,  the 
pleasure  which  it  awakens  is  never  aitmnibhed. 


848  VIEWS  A  FOOT. 

This  is  one  of  the  greatest  blessings  we  enjoy— 
the  freshness  and  glory  which  Nature  wears  to 
our  eyes  forever.  It  shows  that  the  soul  never 
grows  old — that  the  eye  of  age  can  take  in  the 
impression  of  beauty  with  the  same  enthusiastic 
joy  that  leaped  through  the  heart  of  childhood. 

We  found  the  crowd  around  the  race-course 
but  thin;  half  the  people  there,  and  all  the 
horses,  appeared  to  be  English,  It  was  a  good 
place  to  observe  the  beauty  of  Florence,  which 
however,  may  be  done  in  a  short  time,  as  there 
is  not  much  of  it.  There  is  beauty  in  Italy,  un- 
doubtedly, but  it  is  either  among  the  peasants 
or  the  higher  class  of  nobility.  I  will  tell  our 
American  women  confidentially,  for  I  know  they 
have  too  much  sense  to  be  vain  of  it,  that  they 
surpass  the  rest  of  the  world  as  much  in  beauty 
as  they  do  in  intelligence  and  virtue.  I  saw  in 
one  of  the  carriages  the  wife  of  Alexander  Du- 
mas, the  French  author.  She  is  a  large,  fair  com- 
plexioned  woman,  and  is  now,  from  what  cause 
I  know  not,  living  apart  from  her  husband. 

The  jockeys  paced  up  and  down  the  fields,  pre- 
paring their  beautiful  animals  for  the  approach- 
ing heat,  and  as  the  hour  drew  nigh  the  mounted 
dragoons  busied  themselves  in  clearing  the 
space.  It  was  a  one-mile  course,  to  the  end  of 
the  lawn  and  back.  At  last  the  bugle  sounded, 
and  off  went  three  steeds  like  arrows  let  fly. 
They  passed  us,  their  light  limbs  bounding  over 
the  turf,  a  beautiful  dark-brown  taking  the  lead. 
We  leaned  over  the  railing  and  watched  them 
eagerly.  The  bell  rang — they  reached  the  other 
end— -we  saw  them  turn  and  come  dashing  back, 
nearer,  nearer ;  the  crowd  began  to  shout,  and 
in  a  few  seconds  the  brown  one  had  won  it  by 
four  or  five  lengths.  The  fortunate  horse  was  led 
around  in  triumph,  and  I  saw  an  English  lady, 
remarkable  for  her  betting  propensities,  come 
out  from  the  crowd  and  kiss  it  in  apparent  de- 
light. 


BIRTHPLACE  OP  DANTE,  349 

After  an  interval,  three  others  took  the  field — 
all  graceful,  spirited  creatures.  This  was  a  more 
exciting  race  than  the  first;  they  flew  past  us 
nearly  abreast,  and  the  crowd  looked  after  them 
in  anxiety.  They  cleared  the  course  like  wild 
deer,  and  in  a  minute  or  two  came  back,  the 
racer  of  an  English  nobleman  a  short  distance 
ahead .  The  jockey  threw  up  his  hand  in  token 
of  triumph  as  he  approached  the  goal,  and  the 
people  cheered  him.  It  was  a  beautiful  sight  to 
Bee  those  noble  animals  stretching  to  the  utmost 
of  their  speed,  as  they  dashed  down  the  grassy 
lawn.  The  lucky  one  always  showed  by  his 
proud  and  erect  carriage,  his  consciousness  of 
success. 

Florence  is  fast  becoming  modernized.  The  in- 
troduction of  gas,  and  the  construction  of  the 
railroad  to  Pisa,  which  is  nearly  completed,  will 
make  sad  havoc  with  the  air  of  poetry  which 
still  lingers  in  its  silent  streets.  There  is  scarcely 
a  bridge,  a  tower,  or  a  street,  which  is  not  con- 
nected with  some  stirring  association.  In  the 
Via  San  Felice,  Raphael  used  to  paint  when  a 
boy;  near  the  Ponte  Santa  Trinita  stands  Mi- 
chael Arigelo's  house,  with  his  pictures,  clothesv 
and  painting  implements,  just  as  he  left  it  three 
centuries  ago ;  on  the  south  side  of  the  Arno  is 
the  house  of  Galileo,  and  that  of  Machiavelli 
stands  in  an  avenue  near  the  Ducal  Palace. 
While  threading  my  way  through  some  dark, 
crooked  streets  in  an  unfrequented  part  of  the 
city,  I  noticed  an  old,  unten anted  house,  bearing 
a  marble  tablet  above  the  door.  I  drew  near 
and  read  : — "In  this  house  of  the  Alighieri  was 
born  the  Divine  Poet!  "  It  was  the  birth-place 
of  Dante! 

Nov.  1. — Yesterday  morning  we  were  apprised 
of  the  safe  arrival  of  a  new  scion  of  the  royal 
family  in  the  world  by  the  ringing  of  the  city 
bells.  To-day,  to  celebrate  the  event,  the  shops 
were  closed,  and  the  people  made  a  holiday  of  it. 


350  VtBWS  A -FOOT. 

Merry  chimes  pealed  out  from  every  tower,  and 
discharges  of  cannon  thundered  up  from  the 
fortress.  In  the  evening  the  dome  of  the  Cathe- 
dral was  illuminated,  and  the  lines  of  cupola, 
lantern,  and  cross  were  traced  in  flame  on  the 
dark  sky,  like  a  crown  of  burning  stars  dropped 
from  Heaven  on  the  holy  pile.  I  went  in  and 
walked  down  the  aisle,  listening  for  awhile  to  the 
grand  choral,  while  the  clustered  tapers  under 
the  dome  quivered  and  trembled,  as  if  shaken  by 
the  waves  of  music  which  burst  continually 
within  its  lofty  concave. 

A  few  days  ago  Prince  Corsini,  Prime  Minister 
of  Tuscany,  died  at  an  advanced  age.  I  saw  his 
body  brought  in  solemn  procession  by  night, 
with  torches  and  tapers,  to  the  church  of  Santa 
Trinita.  Soldiers  followed  with  reversed  arms 
and  muffled  drums,  the  band  playing  a  funeral 
march.  I  forced  myself  through  the  crowd  into 
the  church,  which  was  hung  w7ith  black  and  gold, 
and  listened  to  the  long  drawn  chanting  of  tho 
priests  aroun^  the  bier. 

We  lately  visited  the  Florentine  Museum.  Be. 
sides  the  usual  collection  of  objects  of  natural 
history,  there  is  an  anatomical  cabinet,  very 
celebrated  for  its  preparations  in  wax.  All  parts 
of  the  human  frame  are  represented  so  wonder- 
fully exact,  that  students  of  medicine  pursue 
their  studies  here  in  summer  with  the  same  fa- 
cility as  from  real  "  subjects."  Every  bone,  mus- 
cle, and  nerve  in  the  body  is  perfectly  counter- 
feited, the  whole  forming  a  collection  as  curious 
as  it  is  useful.  One  chamber  is  occupied  with  rep- 
resentations of  the  plague  of  Rome,  Milan  and 
Florence.  They  are  executed  with  horrible  truth 
to  nature,  but  I  regretted  afterwards  having; 
eeen  them.  There  are  enough  forms  of  beauty 
and  delight  in  the  world  on  which  to  employ  the 
eye,  without  making  it  familiar  with  scenes  which 
«an  only  be  remembered  with  a  shudder. 

*fe  derive  much  pleasure  from  the  society  ol 


AMERICANS  IN  FLORENCE.  351 

the  American  artists  who  are  now  residing  in 
Florence.  At  the  houses  of  Powers,  and  Brown, 
the  painter,  we  spend  many  delightful  evenings 
in  the  company  of  our  gifted  countrymen.  They 
are  drawn  together  by  a  kindred  social  feeling 
as  well  as  by  their  mutual  aims,  and  form 
among  themselves  a  society  so  unrestrained, 
American-like,  that  the  traveller  who  meets 
them  forgets  his  absence  for  a  time.  These 
noble  representatives  of  our  country,  all  of 
whom  possess  the  true,  inborn  spirit  of  repub- 
licanism, have  made  the  American  name  known 
and  respected  in  Florence.  Powers,  especially, 
who  is  intimate  with  many  of  the  principal 
ItaHan  families,  is  universally  esteemed.  The 
Grand  Duke  has  more  than  once  visited  his 
studio  and  expressed  the  highest  admiration  of 
his  talents. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

AMERICAN  ART  IN  FLORENCE. 

I  have  seen  Ibrahim  Pacha,  the  son  of  old 
Mehemet  Ali,  driving  in  his  carriage  through 
the  streets.  He  is  here  on  a  visit  from  Lucca, 
where  he  has  been  spending  some  time  on  ac- 
count of  his  health.  He  is  a  man  of  apparently 
fifty  years  of  age;  his  countenance  wears  a 
stern  and  almost  savage  look,  very  consistent 
with  the  character  he  bears  and  the  political 
part  he  has  played.  He  is  rather  portly  in  per- 
son, the  pale  olive  of  his  complexion  contrast' 
ing  Btrongly  with  a  beard  perfectly  white.  In 
common  with  all  his  attendants,  he  wears  the 
high  red  cap,  picturesque  blue  tunic  and  narrow 
trowsers  of  the  Egyptians.  There  is  scarcely  a 
man  of  them  whose  face  with  its  wild,  oriental 


352  VIEWS   A-FOOT. 

beauty,  does  not  show  to  advantage  among  us 
civilized  and  prosaic  Christians. 

In  Florence,  and  indeed  through  all  Italy, 
there  is  much  reason  for  our  country  to  be 
proud  of  the  high  stand  her  artists  are  taking. 
The  sons  of  our  rude  western  clime,  brought  up 
without  other  resources  than  their  own  genius 
and  energy,  now  fairly  rival  those,  who  from 
their  cradle  upwards  have  drawn  inspiration 
and  ambition  from  the  glorious  masterpieces  of 
the  old  painters  and  sculptors.  Wherever  our 
artists  are  known,  they  never  fail  to  create  a 
respect  for  American  talent,  and  to  dissipate 
the  false  notions  respecting  our  cultivation  and 
refinement,  which  prevail  in  Europe.  There  are 
now  eight  or  ten  of  our  painters  and  sculptors 
in  Florence,  some  of  whom,  I  do  not  hesitate  to 
say,  take  the  very  first  rank  among  living  artists. 

I  have  been  highly  gratified  in  visiting  the 
studio  of  Mr.  G.  L.  Brown,  who,  as  a  landscape 
painter,  is  destined  to  take  a  stand  second  to 
lew,  since  the  days  of  Claude  Lorraine.  He  is 
now  without  a  rival  in  Florence,  or  perhaps  in 
Italy,  and  has  youth,  genius  and  a  plentiful 
stock  of  the  true  poetic  enthusiasm  for  his  art, 
to  work  for  him  far  greater  triumphs.  His  Ital- 
ian landscapes  have  that  golden  mellowness  and 
transparency  of  atmosphere  which  give  such  a 
charm  to  the  real  scenes,  and  one  would  think  he 
used  on  his  pallette,  in  addition  to  the  more  sub- 
stantial colors,  condensed  air  and  sunlight  and 
the  liquid  crystal  of  streams.  He  has  wooed 
Nature  like  a  lover,  and  she  has  not  withheld  her 
sympathy.  She  has  taught  him  how  to  raise 
and  curve  her  trees,  load  their  boughs  with  foli- 
age, and  spread  underneath  them  the  broad, 
cool  shadows — to  pile  up  the  shattered  crag,  and 
steep  the  long  mountain  range  in  the  haze  of  al- 
luring distance. 

He  has  now  nearly  finished,  a  large  painting  of 
"Christ  Preaching  in  the  Wilderness,"  which  is 


BROWN  AND  KELLOGG.  363 

of  surprising  beauty.  You  look  upon  one  of  the 
fairest  scenes  of  Judea.  In  front,  the  rude  mul- 
titude are  grouped  on  one  ?ide,  in  the  edge  of  a 
magnificent  forest ;  on  the  other  side,  towers  up 
a  rough  wall  of  rock  and  foliage  that  stretches 
back  into  the  distance,  where  some  grand  blue 
mountains  are  piled  against  the  sky,  and  a  beau- 
tiful stream,  winding  through  the  middle  of  the 
picture  slides  away  out  of  the  foreground.  Just 
emerging  from  the  shade  of  one  of  the  cliifs,  is 
the  benign  figure  of  the  Saviour,  with  the  warm 
light  which  breaks  from  behind  the  trees,  falling 
around  him  as  he  advances.  There  is  a  smaller 

Eicture  of  the  "Shipwreck  of  St.  Paul,"  in  which, 
e  shows  equal  skill  in  painting  a  troubled  sea* 
and  breaking  storm.    He  is  one  of  the  young 
artists  from  whom  we  have  most  to  hope. 

I  have  been  extremely  interested  in  looking 
over  a  great  number  of  sketches  made  by  Mr. 
Kellogg,  of  Cincinnati,  during  a  tour  through 
Egypt,  Arabia  Petraa  and  Palestine.  He  vis- 
ited many  places  out  of  the  general  route  of  trav- 
ellers, and  beside  the  great  number  of  landscape 
views,  brought  away  many  sketches  of  the  char- 
acters and  costumes  of  the  Orient.  From  some 
of  these  he  has  commenced  paintings,  which,  as 
his  genius  is  equal  to  his  practice,  will  be  of  no 
ordinary  value.  Indeed,  some  of  these  must  give 
him  at  once  an  established  reputation  in  Amer- 
ica. In  Constantinople,  where  he  resided  several 
months,  he  enjoyed  peculiar  advantages  for  the 
exercise  of  his  art,  through  the  favor  and  influ- 
ence of  Mr.  Carr,  the  American,  and  Sir  Stratford 
Canning,  the  British  Minister.  I  saw  a  splendid 
diamond  cup,  presented  to  him  by  Eiza  Pacha, 
the  late  Grand  Vizier.  The  sketches  he  brought 
from  thence  and  from  the  valleys  of  Phrygia  and 
the  mountain  solitudes  of  old  Olympus,  are  of 
great  interest  and  value.  Among  his  latter 
paintings,  I  might  mention  an  angel,  whose 
countenance  beams  with  a  rapt  and  glorious 


354  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

beauty.  A  divine  light  shines  through  all  th« 
features  and  heightens  the  glow  of  adoration  to 
an  expression  all  spiritual  and  immortal.  If  Mr. 
Kellogg  will  give  us  a  few  more  of  these  heavenly 
conceptions,  wre  will  place  him  on  a  pedestal,  lit- 
tle lower  than  that  of  Guido. 

Greenough,  wrho  has  been  sometime  in  Ger- 
mamr,  returned  lately  to  Florence,  where  he  has 
a  colossal  group  in  progress  for  the  portico  of 
the  Capitol.  I  have  seen  part  of  it,  which  is 
nearly  finished  in  the  marble.  It  shows  a  back- 
woodsman just  triumphing  in  the  struggle  with 
an  Indian;  another  group  to  be  adcled,  will 
represent  the  wife  and  child  of  the  former.  The 
colossal  size  of  the  statues  gives  a  grandeur  to 
the  action,  as  if  it  were  a  combat  of  Titans; 
there  is  a  consciousness  of  power,  an  expression 
of  lofty  disdain  in  the  expansion  of  the  hunter's 
nostril  and  the  proud  curve  of  his  lip,  that 
might  become  a  god.  The  spirit  of  action,  of 
breathing,  life-like  exertion,  so  much  more  diffi- 
cult to  infuse  into  the  marble  than  that  of  re- 
pose, is  perfectly  attained.  I  will  not  enter  into 
a  more  particular  description,  as  it  will  probably 
be  sent  to  the  United  States  in  a  year  or  two. 
It  is  a  magnificent  work;  the  best,  unquestion- 
ably, that  Greenough  has  yet  made.  The  sub- 
ject, and  the  grandeur  he  has  given  it  in  the  exe- 
cution, will  ensur«  it  a  much  more  favorable  re- 
ception than  a  false  taste  gave  to  his  Washing- 
ton. 

Mr.  C.  B.  Ives,  a  young  sculptor  from  Con- 
necticut, has  not  disappointed  the  high  promi.se 
he  gave  before  leaving  home.  I  was  struck  with 
some  of  his  busts  in  Philadelphia,  particularly 
those  of  Mrs.  Sigourney  and  Joseph  R.  Chand- 
ler, and  it  has  been  no  common  pleasure  to  visit 
his  studio  here  in  Florence,  and  look  on  some  of 
his  ideal  works.  He  has  lately  made  two 
models,  which,  when  finished  in  marble,  will  be 
works  of  great  beauty.  They  will  contribute 


AMERICAN  SCULPTORS.  355 

greatly  to  his  reputation  here  and  in  America. 
One  of  these  represents  a  child  of  four  or  five 
years  of  age,  holding  in  his  hand  a  dead  bird, 
on  which  he  is  gazing,  with  childish  grief  and 
wonder,  that  it  is  so  still  and  drooping.  It  is  a 
beautiful  thought;  the  boy  is  leaning  forward  as 
he  sits,  holding  the  lifeless  playmate  close  in  his 
hands,  his  sadness  touched  with  a  vague  expres- 
sion, as  if  he  could  not  yet  comprehend  the  idea 
of  death. 

The  other  is  of  equal  excellence,  in  a  different 
style;  it  is  a  bust  of  "  Jephthah's  daughter," 
when  the  consciousness  of  her  doom  first  flashes 
upon  her.  The  face  and  bust  are  beautiful  with 
the  bloom  of  perfect  girlhood.  A  simple  robe 
covers  her  breast,  and  her  rich  hair  is  gathered 
up  behind,  and  bound  with  a  slender  fillet.  Her 
head,  of  the  pure  classical  mould,  is  bent  forward, 
as  if  weighed  down  by  the  shock,  and  there  is  a 
heavy  drooping  in  the  mouth  and  eyelids,  that 
denotes  a  sudden  and  sickening  agony.  It  is 
not  a  violent,  passionate  grief,  but  a  deep  and 
almost  paralyzing  emotion — a  shock  from  which 
the  soul  will  finally  rebound,  strengthened  to 
make  the  sacrifice. 

Would  it  not  be  better  for  some  scores  of  our 
rich  merchants  to  lay  out  their  money  on  statues 
and  pictures,  instead  of  balls  and  spendthrift 
sons?  A  few  such  expenditures,  properly  di- 
rected, would  do  much  for  the  advancement  of 
the  fine  arts.  An  occasional  golden  blessing,  be- 
stowed  on  genius,  might  be  returned  on  the 
giver,  in  the  fame  he  had  assisted  in  creating. 
There  seems,  however,  to  be  at  present  a  rapid 
increase  in  refined  taste,  and  a  better  apprecia- 
tion of  artistic  talent,  in  our  country.  And  as 
an  American,  nothing  has  made  me  feel  prouder 
than  this,  and  the  steady  increasing  reputation 
of  our  artists. 

Of  these,  no  one  has  done  more  within  the  last 
few  years,  than  Powers.  With  a  tireless  and 
12 


3B6  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

persevering  energy,  such  as  could  have  belonged 
to  few  but  Americans,  he  has  already  gained  a 
name  in  his  art,  that  posterity  will  pronounce  in 
the  same  breath  with  Phidias,  Michael  Angelo 
and  Thorwaldsen.  I  cannot  describe  the  enjoy- 
ment I  have  derived  from  looking  at  his  match- 
less vorks.  I  should  hesitate  in  giving  my  own 
imperfect  judgment  of  their  excellence,  if  I  had 
not  found  it  to  coincide  with  that  of  many 
others  who  are  better  versed  in  the  rules  of  art. 
The  sensation  which  his" Greek  Slave" produced 
in  England,  has  doubtless  ere  this  been  breezed 
across  the  Atlantic,  and  I  see  by  the  late  Ameri- 
can papers  that  they  are  growing  familiar  with 
his  fame.  When  I  read  a  notice  seven  or  eight 
years  ago,  of  the  young  sculptor  of  Cincinnati, 
whose  busts  exhibited  so  much  evidence  of 
genius,  I  little  dreamed  I  should  meet  him  in 
Florence,  with  the  experience  of  years  of  toil 
added  to  his  early  enthusiasm,  and  every  day 
increasing  his  renown. 

You  would  like  to  hear  of  his  statue  of  Eve, 
which  men  of  taste  pronounce  one  of  the  finest 
works  of  modern  times.  A  more  perfect  figure 
never  filled  my  eye.  I  have  seen  the  masterpieces 
of  Thorwaldsen,  Daunecker  and  Canova,  and 
the  Venus  de  Medici,  but  I  have  seen  nothing  yet 
that  can  exceed  the  beauty  of  this  glorious 
statue.  So  completely  did  the  first  view  excite 
my  surprise  and  delight,  and  thrill  every  feeling 
that  awakes  at  the  sight  of  the  Beautiful,  that 
my  mind  dwelt  intensely  on  it  for  days  after- 
wards. This  is  the  Eve  of  Scripture— the  Eve  of 
Milton— mother  of  mankind  and  fairest  of  all 
her  race.  With  the  full  and  majestic  beauty  of 
ripened  \vomanhood,  she  wears  the  purity  of  a 
world  yet  unknown  to  sin.  With  the  bearing  of 
a  queen,  there  is  in  her  countenance  the  softness 
and  grace  of  a  tender,  loving  woman ; 

"  God-like  erect,  with  native  honor  clad, 
In  naked  majesty." 


POWERS'  "EVE."  357 

She  holds  the  fatal  fruit  extended  in  her  hand, 
and  her  face  expresses  the  struggle  between  con- 
science, dread  and  desire.  The  serpent,  whose 
coiled  length  under  the  leaves  and  flowers  en- 
tirely surrounds  her,  thus  forming  a  beautiful 
allegorical  symbol,  is  watching  her  decision  from 
an  ivied  trunk  at  her  side.  Her  form  is  said  to 
be  fully  as  perfect  as  the  Venus  de  Medici,  find 
from  its  greater  size,  has  an  air  of  conscious  and 
ennobling  dignity.  The  head  is  far  superior  in 
beauty,  and  soul  speaks  from  every  feature  of 
the  countenance.  I  add  a  few  stanzas  which 
the  contemplation  of  this  statue  called  forth. 
Though  unworthy  the  subject,  they  may  perhaps 
faintly  shadow  the  sentiment  which  Powers  has 
»o  eloquently  embodied  in  marble : 

THE  "EVE "OF  POWERS. 

A  faultless  being  from  the  marble  sprung, 
She  stands  in  beauty  there! 

As  when  the  grace  of  Eden  'round  her  dung- 
Fairest  where  all  was  fair! 

Pure,  as  when  first  from  God's  creating  hand 
She  came,  on  man  to  shine; 

So  seems  she  now,  in  living  stone  to  stand — 
A  mortal,  yet  divine! 

The  spark  the  Grecian  from  Olympus  caught, 

Left  not  a  loftier  trace; 
The  daring  of  the  sculptor's  hand  has  wrought 

A  soul  in  that  sweet  face! 
He  won  as  well  the  sacred  fire  from  heaven, 

God-sent,  not  stolen  down, 
And  no  Promethean  doom  for  him  is  given, 

But  ages  of  renown! 

The  soul  of  beauty  breathes  around  that  form 

A  more  enchanting  spell; 
There  blooms  each  virgin  grace,  ere  yet  the  storm 

On  blighted  Eden  fell; 
The  first  desire  upon  her  lovely  bro\v, 

Raised  by  an  evil  power; 
Doubt,  longing,  dread,  are  in  her  features  now— 

It  is  the  trial-hour! 


358  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

How  every  thought  that  strives  within  her  breast, 

In  that  one  glance  is  shown! 
Say,  can  that  heart  of  marble  be  at  rest, 

Since  spirit  warms  the  stone? 
Will  not  those  limbs,  of  so  divine  a  mould, 

Move,  when  her  thought  is  o'er  — 
When  she  has  yielded  to  the  tempter's  hold 

And  Eden  blooms  no  more? 

Art,  like  a  Phoenix,  springs  from  dust  again — 

She  cannot  pass  away ! 
Bound  down  in  gloom,  she  breaks  apart  the  chair. 

And  struggles  up  to  day! 
The  flame,  first  kindled  in  the  ages  gone, 

Has  never  ceased  to  burn, 
And  westward,  now,  appears  the  kindling  dawn, 

Which  marks  the  day's  return! 

The  "Greek  Slave  "is  now  in  the  possession 
of  Mr.  Grant,  of  London,  and  I  only  saw  the 
clay  model.  Like  the  Eve,  it  is  a  form  that  one's 
eye  tells  him  is  perfect,  unsurpassed;  but  it  is 
the  budding  loveliness  of  a  girl,  instead  of  the 
perfected  beauty  of  a  woman.  In  England  it 
has  been  pronounced  superior  to  Canova's 
works,  and  indeed  I  have  seen  nothing  of  his, 
that  could  be  placed  beside  it. 

Powers  has  now  nearly  finished  a  most  ex- 
quisite figure  of  a  fisher-boy,  standing  on  the 
shore,  with  his  net  and  rudder  in  one  hand, 
while  with  the  other  he  holds  a  shell  to  his  ear 
and  listens  if  it  murmur  to  him  of  a  gathering 
storm.  His  slight,  boyish  limbs  are  full  of  gr;x-o 
and  delicacy — you  feel  that  the  youthful  frame 
could  grow  up  into  nothing  less  than  an  Apollo. 
Then  the  head— how  beautiful!  Slightly  bent 
on  one  side,  with  the  rim  of  the  shell  "thrust 
under  his  locks,  lips  gently  parted,  and  the  face 
wrought  up  to  the  most  hushed  and  breathless 
expression,  he  listens  whether  the  sound  be 
deeper  than  its  wont.  It  makes  you  hold  your 
breath  and  listen,  to  look  at  it.  "Mrs.  Jameson 
somewhere  remarks  that  repose  or  suspended 
motion,,  should  be  always  chosen  for  a  statue 


POWERS.  35fl 

that  shall  present  a  perfect,  unbroken  impres- 
sion  to  the  mind.  If  this  be  true,  the  enjoyment 
must  be  much  more  complete  where  not  only  the 
motion,  but  almost  breath  and  thought  are  sus- 
pended, and  all  the  faculties  wrought  into  one 
hushed  and  intense  sensation.  In  gazing  on  this 
exquisite  conception,  I  feel  my  admiration  filled 
to  the  utmost,  without  that  painful,  aching  im- 
pression, so  often  left  by  beautiful  works.  It 
glides  into  my  vision  like  a  form  long  missed 
from  the  gallery  of  beauty  I  am  forming  in  mj 
mind,  and  I  gaze  on  it  with  an  ever  new  and  in- 
creasing delight. 

Now' I  come  to  the  last  and  fairest  of  all — the 
divine  Proserpine.  Not  the  form,  for  it  is  but  a 
bust  rising  from  a  capital  of  acanthus  leaves, 
which  curve  around  the  breast  and  arms  and 
turn  gracefully  outward,  but  the  face,  whose 
modest  maiden  beauty  can  find  no  peer  among 
goddesses  or  mortals.  So  looked  she  on  the  field 
of  Ennse — that  "fairer  flower,"  so  soon  to  be 
gathered  by  "gloomy  Dis."  A  slender  crown  ot 
green  wheat-blades,  showing  alike  her  descent 
from  Ceres  and  her  virgin  years,  circles  her  head. 
Truly,  if  Pygmalion  stole  his  fire  to  warm  such 
a  form  as  this,  Jove  should  have  pardoned  him. 
Of  Powers'  busts  it  is  unnecessary  for  me  to 
speak.  He  has  lately  finished  a  very  beautiful 
one  of  the  Princess  Demidoff,  daughter  of  Jerome 
Bonaparte. 

We  will  soon,  I  hope,  have  the  "Eve "in 
America.  Powers  has  generously  refused  many 
advantageous  offers  for  it,  that  he  might  finally 
send  it  home;  and  his  country,  therefore,  will 
possess  this  statue,  his  first  ideal  work.  She 
may  well  be  proud  of  the  genius  and  native  en- 
ergy of  her  young  artist,  and  she  should  repay 
them  by  a  just  and  liberal  encouragement. 


860  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 


CHAPTER  xxxvrn. 

AN  ADVENTURE  ON  THE  GREAT  ST.  BERNARD— 
WALKS  AROUND  FLORENCE. 

Nov.  9.—X.  few  days  ago  I  received  a  letter 
from  my  cousin  at  Heidelberg,  -describing  his 
solitary  walk  from  Genoa  over  the  Alps,  and 
through  the  western  part  of  Switzerland.  The 
news  of  his  safe  arrival  dissipated  the  anxiety 
*e  were  beginning  to  feel,  on  account  of  his 
long  silence,  while  it  proved  that  our  fears  con- 
cerning the  danger  of  such  a  journey  were  not 
altogether  groundless.  He  met  with  a  startling 
adventure  on  the  Great  St.  Bernard,  which  will 
be  best  described  by  an  extract  from  his  own 
letter : 

"Such  were  my  impres- 
sions of  Rome.  But  leaving  the  '  Eternal  City/ 
I  must  hasten  on  to  give  you  a  description  of 
an  adventure  I  met  with  in  crossing  the  Alps, 
omitting  for  the  present  an  account  of  the  trip 
from  Rome  to  Genoa,  and  my  lonely  walk 
through  Sardinia.  When  I  had  crossed  the 
mountain  range  north  of  Genoa,  the  plains  of 
Piedmont  stretched  out  before  me.  I  could  see 
the  snowy  sides  and  summits  of  the  Alps  more 
than  one  hundred  miles  distant,  looking  like 
white,  fleecy  clouds  on  a  summer  day.  It  was  a 
magnificent  prospect,  and  I  wonder  not  that  the 
heart  of  the  Swig;  soldier,  after  years  of  absence 
in  foreign  service,  beats  with  joy  when  he  again 
looks  on  his  native  mountains. 

"As  I  approached  nearer,  the  weather  changed, 
and  dark,  gloomy  clouds  enveloped  them,  so 
that  they  seemed  to  present  an  impassable 


ASCENT  OF  ST.  BERNARD.  3tfl 

barrier  to  the  lands  beyond  them.  At  Ivrea,  I 
entered  the  interesting  valley  Of  Aosta.  The 
whole  valley,  fifty  miles  in  length,  is  inhabited 
by  miserable  looking  people,  nearly  one  half  of 
them  being  afflicted  with  goitre  and  cretinism. 
They  looked  more  idiotic  and  disgusting  than 
any  I  have  ever  seen,  and  it  was  really  painful 
to  behold  such  miserable  specimens  of  humanity 
dwelling  amid  the  grandest  scenes  of  nature. 
Immediately  after  arriving  in  the  town  of  Aosta, 
situated  at  the  upper  end  of  the  valley,  I  began, 
alone,  the  ascent  of  the  Great  St.  Bernard.  It 
was  just  noon,  and  the  clouds  on  the  mountains 
indicated  rain.  The  distance  from  Aosta  to  the 
monastery  or  hospice  of  St.  Bernard,  is  about 
twenty  English  miles. 

''At  one  o'clock  it  commenced  raining  very 
hard,  and  to  gain  shelter  I  went  into  a  rude  hut; 
but  it  was  filled  with  so  many  of  those  idiotic 
cretins,  lying  down  on  the  earthy  floor  with  the 
dogs  and  other  animals,  that  I  was  glad  to  leave 
them  as  soon  as  the  storm  abated  in  some  de- 
gree. I  walked  rapidly  for  three  hours,  when  I 
met  a  traveller  and  his  guide  descending  the 
mountain.  I  asked  him  in  Italian  the  distance 
to  the  hospice,  and  he  undertook  to  answer  me 
in  French,  but  the  words  did  not  seem  to  flow 
very  fluently,  so  I  said  quickly,  observing  then 
that  he  was  an  Englishman :  '  Try  some  other 
language,  if  you  please,  sir ! '  He  replied  in- 
stantly in  his  vernacular :  '  You  have  a  d — d  long 
walk  before  you,  and  you'll  have  to  hurry  to  get 
to  the  top  before  night  I'  Thanking  him,  Are 
shook  hands  and  hurried  on,  he  downward  and 
I  upward.  About  eight  miles  from  the  summit, 
I  was  directed  into  the  wrong  path  by  an  ignor- 
ant boy  who  was  tending  sheep,  and  went  a  mile 
out  of  the  course,  towards  Mont  Blanc,  before  I 
discovered  my  mistake.  I  hurried  back  into  the 
right  path  again,  and  soon  overtook  another 
boy  ascending  the  mountain,  who  asked  me  if 


362  VIEWS  A -FOOT, 

he  might  accompany  me  as  he  was  alone,  to 
which  I  of  course  answered,  yes;  but  when  we 
began  to  enter  the  thick  clouds  that  covered  the 
mountains,  he  became  alarmed,  and  said  he 
would  go  no  farther.  I  tried  to  encourage  him 
by  saying  we  had  only  five  miles  more  to  climb, 
but,  turning  quickly,  he  ran  down  the  path  and 
was  soon  out  of  sight. 

"After  a  long  and  most  toilsome  ascent, 
spurred  on  as  I  was  by  the  storm  and  the  ap- 
proach of  night,  I  saw  at  last  through  the 
clouds  a  little  house,  which  I  supposed  might  be 
a  part  of  the  monastery,  but  it  turned  out  to  be 
only  a  house  of  refuge,  erected  by  the  monks  to 
take  in  travellers  in  extreme  cases  or  extraordi- 
nary danger.  The  man  who  was  staying  there, 
told  me  the  monastery  was  a  mile  and  a  half 
further,  and  thinking  therefore  that  I  could  soon 
reach  it,  I  started  out  again,  although  darkness 
was  approaching.  In  a  short  time  the  storm 
began  in  good  earnest,  and  the  cold  winds  blew 
with  the  greatest  fury.  It  grew  dark  very  sud- 
denly and  I  lost  sight  of  the  poles  which  are 
placed  along  the  path  to  guide  the  traveller.  I 
then  ran  on  still  higher,  hoping  to  find  them 
again,  but  without  success.  The  rain  and  snow 
fell  thick,  and  although  I  think  I  am  tolerably 
courageous,  I  began  to  be  alarmed,  for  it  was 
impossible  to  know  in  what  direction  I  was  go- 
ing. I  could  hear  the  waterfalls  dashing  and 
roaring  down  the  mountain  hollows  on  each 
side  of  me;  in  the  gloom,  the  foam  and  leaping 
waters  resembled  steaming  fires.  I  thought  of 
turning  back  to  find  the  little  house  of  refuge 
again,  but  it  seemed  quite  as  dangerous  and  un- 
certain as  to  go  forward.  After  the  fatigue  £ 
had  undergone  since  noon,  it  would  have  been 
dangerous  to  be  obliged  to  stay  out  all  night  in 
the  driving  storm,  which  was  every  minute  in- 
creasing in  coldness  and  intensity. 

"I  stopped  and  shouted  aloud, hoping  I  ir  ,ght 


MONASTERY  863 

be  somewhere  near  the  monastery,  but  no  answer 
came — no  noise  except  the  storm  and  the  roar  of 
the  waterfalls.  I  climbed  up  the  rocks  neaply  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  higher,  and  shouted  again.  I 
listened  with  anxiety  for  two  or  three  minutes, 
but  hearing  no  response,  I  concluded  to  find  a 
shelter  for  the  night  under  a  ledge  of  rocks. 
While  looking  around  me,  I  fancied  I  heard  ID. 
the  distance  a  noise  like  the  trampling  of  hoofs 
over  the  rocks,  and  thinking  travellers  might  be 
near,  I  called  aloud  for  the  third  time.  After 
waiting  a  moment,  a  voice  came  ringing  on  my 
ears  through  the  clouds,  like  one  from  heaven  in 
response  to  my  own.  My  heart  beat  quickly ;  I 
hurried  in  the  direction  from  which  the  sound 
came,  and  to  my  joy  found  two  men — servants 
of  the  monastery — who  were  driving  their  mules 
into  shelter.  Never  in  my  whole  life  was  I  more 
glad  to  hear  the  voice  of  man.  These  men  con- 
ducted me  to  the  monastery,  one-fourth  of  a 
mile  higher,  built  by  the  side  of  a  lake  at  the 
summit  of  the  pass,  while  on  each  side,  the 
mountains,  forever  covered  with  snow,  tower 
some  thousands  of  feet  higher. 

"Two  or  three  of  the  noble  St.  Bernard  dogs 
barked  a  welcome  as  we  approached,  wrhich 
brought  a  young  monk  to  the  door.  I  addressed 
him  in  German,  but  to  my  surprise  he  answered 
in  broken  English.  He  took  me  into  a  warm 
room  and  gave  me  a  suit  of  clothes,  such  as  are 
worn  by  the  monks,  for  my  dress,  as  well  as  my 
package  of  papers,  were  completely  saturated 
with  rain.  I  sat  down  to  supper  in  company 
with  all  the  monks  of  the  Hospice,  I  in  my 
monkish  robe  looking  like  one  of  the  holy  order. 
You  would  have  laughed  to  have  seen  me  in 
their  costume.  Indeed,  I  felt  almost  satisfied  to 
turn  monk,  as  everything  seemed  so  comfortable 
in  the  warm  supper  room,  with  its  blazing  wood 
fire,  while  outside  rnged  the  storm  still  more 
violently.  But  when  I  thought  of  their  volun- 


364  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

tary  banishment  from  the  world,  up  in  that  high 
pnss  of  the  Alps,  and  that  the  affection  of  wo- 
man never  gladdened  their  hearts,  I  was  ready 
to  renounce  my  monkish  dress  next  morning, 
without  reluctance. 

"In  the  address  book  of  the  monastery,  I 
found  Longfellow's '  Excelsior '  written  on  a  piece 
of  paper  and  signed  'America.'  You  remember 
the  stanza : 

'At  break  of  day,  as  heavenward, 
The  pious  monks  of  St.  Bernard 
Uttered  the  oft-repeated  prayer, 
A  voice  cried  through  the  startled  air: 
Excelsior!' 

It  seemed  to  add  a  tenfold  interest  to  the  poem, 
to  read  it  on  old  St.  Bernard.  In  the  morning  I 
visited  the  house  where  are  kept  the  bodies  of  the 
travellers,  who  perish  in  crossing  the  mountain. 
It  is  filled  with  corpses,  ranged  in  rows,  and  look- 
ing like  mummies,  for  the  cold  is  so  intense  that 
they  will  keep  for  years  without  decaying,  and 
are  often  recognized  and  removed  by  their 
friends. 

"Of  my  descent  to  Martigny,  my  walk  down 
the  Rhone,  and  along  the  shores  of  LakeLeman, 
my  visit  to  the  prison  of  Chillon  and  other  wan- 
derings across  Switzerland,  my  pleasure  in  seeing 
the  old  river  Rhine  again,  and  my  return  to  Hei- 
delberg at  night,  with  the  bright  moon  shining 
on  the  Xeckar  and  the  old  ruined  castle,  I  can 
now  say  no  more,  nor  is  it  necessary,  for  are  not 
all  these  things,  'written  in  my  book  of  Chroni- 
cles,' to  be  seen  by  you  when  we  meet  again  in 
Paris?  Ever  yours,  FRANK." 

Dec.  16. — I  took  a  walk  lately  to  the  tower  of 
Galileo.  In  company  with  three  friends.  I  left 
Florence  by  the  Portn  Romnna,  and  ascended 
the  Poggie  Imperial?.  This  beautiful  avenue,  a 
mile  and  a  quarter  in  length,  leading  up  a  grad- 
ual ascent  to  a  villa  of  the  Grand  Duke,  is  bor- 


THE  TOWER  OF  GALILEO.  365 

dered  with  splendid  cypresses  and  evergreen 
oaks,  and  the  grass  banks  are  always  fresh  and 
green,  so  that  even  in  winter  it  calls  up  a  remem- 
brance of  summer.  In  fact,  winter  does  not 
wear  the  scowl  here  that  he  has  at  home;  he  is 
robed  rather  in  a  threadbare  garment  of  au- 
tumn, and  it  is  only  high  up  on  the  mountain 
tops,  out  of  the  reach  of  his  enemy,  the  sun,  that 
he  dares  to  throw  it  oif,  and  bluster  about  with 
his  storms  and  scatter  down  his  snow-flakes. 
The  roses  still  bud  and  bloom  in  the  hedges,  the 
emerald  of  the  meadows  is  not  a  whit  paler,  the 
sun  looks  down  lovingly  as  yet,  and  there  are 
only  the  white  helmets  of  some  of  the  Apennines, 
with  the  leafless  mulberries  and  vines,  to  tell  us 
that  we  have  changed  seasons. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour's  walk,  part  of  it  by  a 
path  through  an  olive  orchard,  brought  us  to 
the  top  of  a  hill,  which  was  surmounted  by  a 
square,  broken,  ivied  tower,  forming  part  of  a 
store-house  for  the  produce  of  the  estate.  We 
entered,  saluted  by  a  dog,  and  passing  through 
a  court-yard,  in  which  stood  two  or  three  carts 
full  of  brown  olives,  found  our  way  to  the  rickety 
staircase.  I  spared  my  sentiment  in  going  up, 
thinking  the  steps  might  have  been  renewed  since 
Galileo's  time,  but  the  glorious  landscape  which 
opened  around  us  when  we  reached  the  top,  time 
could  not  change,  and  I  gazed  upon  it  with  in- 
terest and  emotion,  as  my  eye  took  in  those 
forms  which  once  had  been  mirrored  in  the  phU 
losopher's.  Let  me  endeavor  to  describe  the 
features  of  the  scene. 

Fancy  yourself  lifted  to  the  summit  of  a  high 
hill,  whose  base  slopes  down  to  the  valley  of  the 
Arno,  and  looking  northward.  Behind  you  is  a 
confusion  of  hill  and  valley,  growing  gradually 
dimmer  away  to  the  horizon.  Before  and  below 
you  is  a  vale,  with  Florence  and  her  great  domes 
and  towers  in  its  lap,  and  across  its  breadth  of 
five  miles  the  mountain  of  Fiesole.  To  the  west 


3bb  VI&WS  A-FOOT. 

it  stretches  away  unbroken  for  twenty  miles, 
covered  thickly  with  white  villa.. — like  a  meadow 
of  daisies,  magnified.  A  few  miles  to  the  east 
the  plain  is  rounded  with  mountains,  between 
whose  interlocking  bases  we  can  see  the  brown 
current  of  the  Arno.  Some  of  their  peaks,  as 
well  as  the  mountain  of  Vallombrosa,  along  the 
eastern  sky,  are  tipped  with  snow.  Imagine  the 
air  filled  with  a  thick  blue  mist,  like  a  semi-trans- 
parent veil,  which  softens  every  thing  into 
dreamy  indistinctness,  the  sunshine  falling  slant- 
ingly through  this  in  spots,  touching  the  land- 
scape here  and  there  as  with  a  sudden  blaze  of 
fire,  and  you  will  complete  the  picture.  Does  it 
not  repay  your  mental  flight  across  the  Atlantic? 
One  evening,  on  coming  out  of  the  cafe,  the 
moon  was  shining  so  brightly  and  clearly,  that 
I  involuntarily  bent  my  steps  towards  the  river; 
I  walked  along  the  Lung'  Arno,  enjoying  the 
heavenly  moonlight — "the  night  of  cloudless 
climes  and  starry  skies!"  A  purer  silver  light 
never  kissed  the  brow  of  Endymion.  The  brown 
Arno  took  into  his  breast  "the  redundant  glory," 
and  rolled  down  his  pebbly  bed  with  a  more 
musical  ripple;  opposite  stretched  the  long  mass 
of  buildings — the  deep  arches  that  rose  from  the 
water  were  filled  with  black  shadow,  and  the 
irregular  fronts  of  the  houses  touched  with  a 
mellow  glow.  The  arches  of  the  upper  bridge 
were  in  shadow,  cutting  their  dark  outline  on 
the  silvery  sweep  of  the  Apennines  far  up  the 
stream.  A  veil  of  luminous  gray  covered  the 
hill  of  San  Miniato,  with  its  towers  and  cypress 
groves,  and  there  was  a  crystal  depth  in  the 
atmosphere,  as  if  it  shone  with  its  own  light. 
The  whole  scene  affected  me  as  something  too 
glorious  to  be  real — painful  from  the  very  in- 
tensity of  its  beauty.  Three  moons  ago,  at  the 
foot  of  Vallombrosa,  I  saw  the  Apennines  flooded 
with  the  same  silvery  gush,  and  thought  also, 
then,  that  I  had  seen  the  same  moon  amid  far 


ASCENT  OF  MONTE  MORELLO.         367 

dearer  scenes,  but  never  before  the  same  dreamy 
and  sublime  glory  showered  down  from  her  pale 
orb.  Some  solitary  lights  were  burning  along 
the  river,  and  occasionally  a  few  Italians  passed 
by,  wrapped  in  their  mantles.  I  went  home  to 
the  Piazza,  del  Granduca  as  the  light,  pouring 
into  the  square  from  behind  the  old  palace,  fell 
over  the  fountain  of  Neptune  and  sheathed  in 
silver  the  back  of  the  colossal  god. 

Whoever  looks  on  the  valley  of  the  Arno  from 
San  Miniato,  and  observes  the  Apennine  range, 
of  which  Fiesoleis  one,  bounding  it  on  the  north, 
will  immediately  notice  to  the  northwest  a 
double  peak  rising  high  above  all  the  others. 
The  bare,  brown  forehead  of  this,  known  by  the 
name  of  Monte  Morello,  seemed  so  provokingly 
tc  challenge  an  ascent,  that  we  determined  to 
try  it.  So  we  started  early,  the  day  before  yes- 
terday, from  the  Porta  San  Gallo,  with  nothing 
but  the  frosty  grass  and  fresh  air  to  remind  us 
of  the  middle  of  December.  Leaving  the  Prato 
road,  at  the  base  of  the  mountain,  we  passed 
Careggi,  a  favorite  farm  of  Lorenzo  the  Magnif- 
icent, and  entered  a  narrow  glen  where  a  little 
brook  was  brawling  down  its  rocky  channel. 
Here  and  there  stood  a  rustic  mill,  near  which 
women  were  busy  spreading  their  washed  clothes 
on  the  grass.  Following  the  footpath,  we  as- 
cended a  long  eminence  to  a  chapel  where  some 
boys  were  amusing  themselves  with  a  common 
country  game.  They  have  a  small  wheel,  around 
which  they  wind  a  rope,  and,  running  a  little  dis- 
tance to  increase  the  velocity,  let  it  off  with  a 
sudden  jerk.  On  a  level  road  it  can  be  thrown 
upwards  wf  a  quarter  of  a  mile. 

From  the  chapel,  a  gradual  ascent  along  the 
ridge  of  a  hill  brought  us  to  the  foot  of  the  peak, 
whir-h  rose  high  before  us,  covered  with  bare 
rocks  and  stunted  oaks.  The  wind  blew  coldly 
from  a  snowy  range  to  the  north,  as  we  com- 
Tienced  ascending  with  a  good  will.  A 


368  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

shepherds  were  leading1  their  flocks  along  the 
sides,  to  browse  on  the  grass  and  withered 
bushes,  and  we  started  up  a  large  hare  occasion, 
ally  from  his  leafy  covert.  The  ascent  was  very 
toilsome;  I  was  obliged  to  stop  frequently  on 
account  of  the  painful  throbbing  of  my  heart, 
which  made  it  difficult  to  breathe.  When  the 
Bummit  was  gained,  we  lay  down  awhile  on  the 
leeward  side  to  recover  ourselves. 

We  looked  on  the  great  valley  of  the  Arno,  per- 
haps twenty-five  miles  long,  and  five  or  six  broad, 
lying  like  a  long  elliptical  basin  sunk  among  the 
hills.  I  can  liken  it  to  nothing  but  a  vast  sea ; 
for  a  dense,  blue  mist  covered  the  level  surface, 
through  which  the  domes  of  Florence  rose  up 
like  a  craggy  island,  \vhile  the  thousands  of 
scattered  villas  resembled  ships,  with  spread 
sails,  afloat  on  its  surface.  The  sharp,  cutting 
wind  soon  drove  us  down,  with  a  few  hundred 
bounds,  to  the  path  again.  Three  more  hungry 
mortals  did  not  dine  at  the  Cacciatore  that  day. 

The  chapel  of  the  Medici,  Avhich  we  visited,  is 
of  wonderful  beauty.  The  walls  are  entirely  en- 
crusted with  pietra  dura  and  the  most  precious 
kinds  of  marble.  The  ceiling  is  covered  with 
gorgeous  frescoes  by  Benevenuto,  a  modern 
painter.  Around  the  sides,  in  magnificent  sar- 
cophagi of  marble  and  jasper,  repose  the  ashes 
of  a  few  Cosmos  and  Ferdinands.  I  asked  the 
sacristan  for  the  tomb  of  Lorenzo  the  Magnifi- 
cent. "Oh!"  said  he,  "he  lived  during  the  re- 
public— he  has  no  tomb;  these  are  only  for 
Dukes !  "  I  could  not  repress  a  sigh  at  the  lavish 
waste  of  labor  and  treasure  on  this  one  princely 
chapel.  They  might  have  slumbered  unnoted, 
like  Lorenzo,  if  they  had  done  as  much  for  their 
country  and  Italy. 

December  7.9.— It  is  with  a  heavy  heart,  that 
I  sit  down  to-night  to  make  my  closing  note  in 
this  lovely  city  and  in  the  journal  which  has  re- 
corded my  thoughts  and  impressions  since  leav- 


FAREWELL  TO  FLORHNCM.  369 

ing  America.  I  should  find  it  difficult  to  analyze 
my  emotions,  but  I  know  they  oppress  me  pain- 
fully. So  much  rushes  at  once  over  the  mind 
and  heart — memories  of  what  has  passed 
through  both,  since  I  made  the  first  note  in  its 
pages— alternations  of  hope  and  anxiety  and 
aspiration,  but  never  despondency — that  it  re- 
sembles in  a  manner,  the  closing  of  a  life.  I 
seem  almost  to  have  lived  through  the  common 
term  of  a  life  in  this  short  period.  Much  spirit- 
ual  and  mental  experience  has  crowded  into 
a  short  time  the  sensations  of  years.  Pain- 
ful though  some  of  it  has  been,  it  was  still  wel- 
come. Difficulty  and  toil  give  the  soul  strength 
to  crush,  in  a  loftier  region,  the  passions  which 
draw  strength  only  from  the  earth.  So  long  as 
we  listen  to  the  purer  promptings  within  us, 
there  is  a  Power  invisible,  though  not  unfelt, 
who  protects  us — amid  the  toil  and  tumult  and 
Boiling  struggle,  there  is  an  eye  that  watches, 
ever  a  heart  that  overflows  with  Infinite  and 
Almighty  Love!  Let  us  trust  then  in  that 
Eternal  Spirit,  who  pours  out  on  us  his  warm 
and  boundless  blessings,  through  the  channels 
of  so  many  kindred  human  hearts  1 


CHAPTEE  XXXIX. 

WINTER  TRAVELLING  AMONG  THE  APENNINES. 

Valley  of  the  Arno,  Dec.  22. — It  is  a  glorious 
morning  after  our  two  days'  walk,  through  rain 
and  mud,  among  these  stormy  Apennines.  The 
range  of  high  peaks,  among  which  is  the  cele- 
brated monastery  of  Camaldoli.  lie  just  before 
us,  their  summits  dazzling  with  the  new  fallen 
enow.  The  clouds  are  breaking  away,  and  a 


370  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

few  rosy  flushes  announce  the  approach  of  the 
sun.  It  has  rained  during  the  night,  and  the 
fields  are  as  green  and  fresh  as  on  a  morning  in 
spring. 

We  left  Florence  on  the  20th,  while  citizens  and 
strangers  were  vainly  striving  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  the  Emperor  of  Russia.  He  is,  from  some 
cause,  very  shy  of  being  seen,  in  his  journeys 
from  place  to  place,  using  the  greatest  art  and 
diligence  to  prevent  the  time  of  his  departure  and 
arrival  from  being  known.  On  taking  leave  of 
Powers,  I  found  him  expecting  the  Autocrat,  as 
he  had  signified  his  intention  of  visiting  his 
studio;  it  was  a  cause  of  patriotic  pride  to 
find  that  crowned  heads  know  and  appreciate 
the  genius  of  our  sculptor.  The  sky  did  not; 
promise  much,  as  we  set  out ;  when  we  had  en- 
tered  the  Apennines  and  taken  a  last  look  of  the 
lovely  valley  behind  us,  and  the  great  dome  of 
the  city  where  we  had  spent  four  delightful 
months,  it  began  to  rain  heavily.  Determined 
to  conquer  the  weather  at  the  beginning,  wo 
kept  on,  although  before  many  miles  were  passed, 
it  became  too  penetrating  to  be  agreeable.  The 
mountains  grew  nearly  black  under  the  shadow 
of  the  clouds,  and  the  storms  swept  drearily 
down  their  passes  and  defiles,  till  the  scenery 
looked  more  like  the  Hartz  than  Italy.  We  were 
obliged  to  stop  at  Ponte  Sieve  and  dry  our 
saturated  garments :  when,  as  the  rain  slac'kened 
somewhat,  we  rounded  the  foot  of  the  mountain 
of  Vallombrosa,  above  the  swollen  and  noisy 
Arno,  to  the  little  village  of  Cucina. 

We  entered  the  only  inn  in  the  place,  followed 
by  a  crowd  of  wondering  boys,  for  two  such 
travellers  had  probably  never  been  seen  there. 
They  made  a  blazing  fire  for  us  in  the  broad 
chimney,  and  after  the  police  of  the  place  satis- 
fied themselves  that  we  were  not  dangerous 
characters,  they  asked  many  questions  about 
pur  country.  I  excited  the  sympathy  of  the 


PEASANTS  OF  THE  APENNINES.        371 

women  greatly  in  our  behalf  by  telling  them  we 
had  three  thousand  miles  of  s  -a  between  us  and 
our  homes.  They  exclaimed  in  the  most  sympa- 
thising tones:  "Poverini!  so  far  to  go! — three 
thousand  miles  of  water!" 

The  next  morning  we  followed  the  right  bank 
of  the  Arno.  At  Incisa,  a  large  town  on  the 
river,  the  narrow  pass  broadens  into  a  large  and 
fertile  plain,  bordered  on  the  north  by  the  mount- 
ains. The  snow  storms  were  sweeping  around 
their  summits  the  whole  day,  and  I  thought  of 
the  desolate  situation  of  the  good  monks  who 
had  so  hospitably  entertained  us  three  months 
before.  It  was  weary  travelling ;  but  at  Levane 
our  fatigues  were  soon  forgotten.  Two  or  three 
peasants  were  sitting  last  night  beside  the  blaz- 
ing fire,  and  we  were  amused  to  hear  them  talk- 
ing about  us.  I  overheard  one  asking  another 
to  converse  with  us  awhile.  "Why  should  I 
speak  to  them?"  said  he;  "they  are  not  of  our 
profession — we  are  swineherds,  and  they  do  not 
care  to  talk  with  us."  However,  his  curiosity 
prevailed  at  last,  and  we  had  a  long  conversa- 
tion together.  It  seemed  difficult  for  them  to 
comprehend  how  there  could  be  so  much  water 
to  cross,  without  any  land,  before  reaching  our 
country.  Finding  we  were  going  to  Rome,  I 
overheard  one  remark  we  were  pilgrims,  which 
seemed  to  be  the  general  supposition,  as  there 
are  few  foot-travellers  in  Italy.  The  people  said 
to  one  another  as  we  passed  along  the  road : — 
"They  are  making  a  journey  of  penance!" 
These  peasants  expressed  themselves  very  well 
for  persons  of  their  station,  but  they  were  re- 
markably ignorant  of  everything  beyond  their 
own  olive  orchards  and  vine  fields. 

Perugia,  Dec.  24. — On  leaving  Levant,  the 
morning  gave  a  promise,  and  the  sun  winked  at 
us  once  or  twice  through  the  broken  clouds,  with 
a  watery  eye;  but  our  cup  wns  not  yet  full. 
After  crossing  one  or  two  shoulders  of  the  range 


872  VIEWS   A-FOOT. 

of  hills,  we  descended  to  the  great  upland  plain 
of  Central  Italy,  watered  by  the  sources  of  the 
Arno  and  the  Tiber.  The  scenery  is  of  a  remark- 
able  character.  The  hills  appear  to  have  been 
washed  and  swept  by  some  mighty  flood.  They 
are  worn  into  every  shape— pyramids,  castles, 
towers— standing  desolate  and  brown,  in  long 
ranges,  like  the  ruins  of  mountains.  The  plain 
is  scarred  with  deep  gulleys,  adding  to  the  look 
of  decay  which  accords  so  well  with  the  Cyclo- 
pean relics  of  the  country. 

A  storm  of  hail  which*  rolled  away  before  us, 
disclosed  the  city  of  Arezzo,  on  a"  hill  at  the 
other  end  of  the  plain,  its  heavy  cathedral 
crowning  the  pyramidal  mass  of  buddings.  Our 
first  care  was  to  find  a  good  trattoria,  for  hunger 
spoke  louder  than  sentiment,  and  then  we  sought 
the  house  where  Petrarch  was  born.  A  young 
priest  showed  it  to  us  on  the  summit  of  the  hill. 
It  has  not  been  changed  since  he  lived  in  it. 

On  leaving  Ploreuce,  we  determined  to  pm>  r;<> 
the  same  plan  as  in  Germany,  of  stopping  at  the 
inns  frequented  by  the  common  people.  They 
treated  us  here,  as  elsewhere,  with  great  kind 
and  sympathy,  and  we  were  freed  from  the  out- 
rageous impositions  practiced  at  the  greater 
hotels.  They  always  built  a  large  fire  to  dry  us, 
after  our  day's  walk  in  the  rain,  and  placing 
chairs  in  the  hearth,  which  was  raised  several 
feet  above  the  floor,  stationed  us  there,  like  the 
giants  Gog  and  Magog,  while  the  children,  as- 
sembled below,  gazed  up  in  open-mouthed  won- 
der at  our  elevated  greatness.  They  even  in- 
vited us  to  share  their  simple  meals  with  them, 
and  it  was  amusing  to  hear  their  good-hearted 
exclamations  of  pity  at  finding  we  were  so  far 
from  home.  We  slept  in  the  great  beds  (for  the 
most  of  the  Italian  beds  are  calculated  for  a 
man,  wife,  and  four  children!)  without  fear  of 
being  assassinated,  and  only  met  with  banditti 
in  dreams. 


A  RIDE  IN  A   C  ALES  I  NO.  373 

This  is  a  very  unfavorable  time  of  the  year  for 
foot-tra veiling.  We  were  obliged  to  wait  three 
or  four  weeks  in  Florence  for  a  remittance  from 
America,  which  not  only  prevented  our  leaving 
as  soon  as  was  desirable,  but,  by  the  additional 
expense  of  living,  left  us  much  smaller  means 
than  we  required.  However,  through  the  kind- 
ness of  a  generous  countryman,  who  unhesitat- 
ingly loaned  us  a  considerable  sum,  we  were  en- 
abled to  start  with  thirty  dollars  each,  which, 
with  care  and  economy,  will  be  quite  sufficient  to 
take  us  to  Paris,  by  way  of  Rome  and  Naples^f 
these  storms  do  not  prevent  us  from  walking. 
Greece  and  the  Orient,  which  I  so  ardently  hoped 
to  visit,  are  now  out  of  the  question.  We  walked 
till  noon  to-day,  over  the  Val  di  Chiana  to  Ca- 
muscia,  the  last  post-station  in  the  Tuscan  do- 
minions. Qn  a  mountain  near  it  is  the  city  of 
Cortona,  still  enclosed  within  its  Cyclopean  walls, 
built  long  before  the  foundation  of  Rome.  Here 
our  patience  gave  way,  melted  down  by  the  un- 
remitting rains,  and  while  eating  dinner  we  made 
a  bargain  for  a  vehicle  to  bring  us  to  this  city. 
We  gave  a  little  more  than  half  of  what  the  vet- 
turino  demanded,  which  was  still  an  exorbitant 
price — two  scudi  each  fora  ride  of  thirty  miles. 

In  a  short  time  we  were  called  to  take  our  seats ; 
I  beheld  with  consternation  a  rickety,  uncovered, 
two-wheeled  vehicle,  to  which  a  single  lean  horse 
was  attached.  "What!"  said  I;  "is  that  the 
carriage  you  promised  ?"  "  You  bargained  for  a 
calesino,"  said  he,  "and  there  it  is!"  adding, 
moreover,  that  there  was  nothing  else  in  the 
place.  So  we  clambered  up,  thrust  our  feet 
among  the  hay,  and  the  machine  rolled  off  with 
a  kind  of  saw-mill  motion,  at  the  rate  of  five 
miles  an  hour. 

Soon  after,  in  ascending  the  mountain  of  the 
Spelunca,  a  sheet  of  blue  water  was  revealed 
below  us — the  lake  of  Thrasymene !  From  the 
eminence  around  which  we  drove,  we  looked  on 


374  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

the  whole  of  its  broad  surface  and  the  mountains 
which  encompass  it.  It  is  a  magnificent  sheet  oi 
water,  in  size  and  shape  somewhat  like  New  York 
Bay,  but  the  heights  around  it  are  far  higher 
than  the  hills  of  Jersey  or  Staten  Island.  Three 
beautiful  islands  lie  in  it,  near  the  eastern  shore. 
While  our  calesino  was  stopped  at  the  papal 
custom-house,  I  gazed  on  the  memorable  field 
below  us.  A  crescent  plain,  between  the  mount- 
ain and  the  lake,  was  the  arena  where  two 
mighty  empires  met  in  combat.  The  place  seems 
marked  by  nature  for  the  scene  of  some  great 
event.  I  experienced  a  thrilling  emotion,  such  as 
no  battle  plain  has  excited,  since,  when  a  school- 
boy, I  rambled  over  the  field  of  Brandywine.  I 
looked  through  the  long  arcades  of  patriarchal 
olives,  and  tried  to  cover  the  field  with  the  shad- 
ows of  the  Roman  and  Carthaginian  myriads. 
I  recalled  the  shock  of  meeting  legions,  the  clash 
of  swords  and  bucklers,  and  the  waving  stand- 
ards amid  the  dust  of  battle,  while  stood  on  the 
mountain  amphitheatre,  trembling  and  invisible, 
the  protecting  deities  of  Rome. 

"  Far  other  scene  is  Thrasymene  now!" 

We  rode  over  the  plain,  passed  through  the 
dark  old  town  of  Passignano,  built  on  a  rocky 
point  by  the  lake,  and  dashed  along  the  shore. 
A  dark,  stormy  sky  bent  over  us,  and  the  roused 
waves  broke  in  foam  on  the  rocks.  The  winds 
whistled  among  the  bare  oak  boughs,  and  shook 
the  olives  till  they  twinkled  all  over.  The  vet- 
turino  whipped  our  old  horse  into  a  gallop,  and 
we  were  borne  on  in  unison  with  the  scene,  which 
would  have  answered  for  one  of  Hoffman's  wild- 
est stories. 

Ascending  a  long  hill,  we  took  a  last  look  in 
the  dusk  at  Thrasymene,  and  continued  our  jour- 
ney among  the  Apennines.  The  vetturino  was 
to  have  changed  horses  at  Magione,  thirteen 


A  MOUNTAIN  S TOR At.  3?ft 

miles  from  Perugia,  but  there  were  none  to  be  had 
and  our  poor  beast  was  obliged  to  perform  the 
whole  journey  without  rest  orfood.  It  grew  very 
dark,  and  a  storm,  with  thunder  and  lightning, 
sweptamong  thehills.  The  clouds  were  of  pitchy 
darkness,  and  we  could  see  nothing  beyond  the 
road,  except  the  lights  of  peasant-cottages  trem- 
bliug  through  the  gloom.  Now  and  then  a  flash 
of  lightning  revealed  the  black  masses  of  the 
mountains,  on  which  the  solid  sky  seemed  to 
rest.  The  wind  and  cold  rain  swept  wailing  past 
us,  as  if  an  evil  spirit  were  abroad  on  the  dark- 
ness. Three  hours  of  such  no'cturnal  travel 
brought  us  here,  wet  and  chilly,  as  well  as  our 
driver,  but  I  pitied  the  poor  horse  more  than 
him. 

"When  we  looked  out  the  window,  on  awaking, 
the  clustered  house-tops  of  the  city,  and  the  sum- 
mits of  the  mountains  near  were  covered  with 
snow.  But  on  walking  to  the  battlements  we 
saw  that  the  valleys  below  were  green  and  un- 
touched. Perugia,  for  its  "pride  of  place."  must 
endure  the  storms,  while  the  humbler  villages 
below  escape  them.  As  the  rain  continues,  we 
have  taken  seats  in  a  country  diligence  for  Fo» 
ligno  and  shall  depart  inafew  minutes. 

Dec.  28. — We  left  Perugia  in  a  close  but  cov- 
ered vehicle,  and  descending  the  mountain, 
crossed  the  muddy  and  rapid  Tiber  in  the  valley 
below.  All  day  we  i  ode  slowly  among  the  hills ; 
where  the  ascent  was  steep,  two  or  four  large 
oxen  were  hitched  before  the  horses.  I  saw  little 
of  the  scenery,  for  our  Italian  companions  would 
not  bear  the  wi:.d  :ws  open.  Once,  when  we 
stopped,  I  got  on,  .nid  found  we  were  in  the  re- 
gion of  snow,  at  the  foot  of  a  stormy  peak, 
which  towered  sublimely  above.  At  dusk,  we 
entered  Foligiio,  and  were  driven  to  the  "Croce 
Bianca  "—glad  to  be  thirty  miles  further  on  our 
way  to  Rome. 

After  some  discussion  with  a  vetturino,  who 


376  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

was  to  leave  next  morning,  we  made  a  contract 
with  him  for  the  remainder  of  the  journey,  for 
the  rain,  which  fell  in  torrents,  forbade  all 
thought  of  pedestrian  ism.  At  five  o'clock  we 
rattled  out  of  the  gate,  and  drove  by  the  wan- 
ing moon  and  morning  starlight,  down  the  vale 
of  the  Clitumnus.  As  the  dawn  stole  on,  I 
watched  eagerly  the  features  of  the  scene.  In- 
stead of  a  narrow  glen,  as  my  fancy  had  pictured, 
we  were  in  a  valley  several  miles  broad,  covered 
with  rich  orchards  and  fertile  fields.  A  glorious 
range  of  mountains  bordered  it  on  the  north, 
looking  like  Alps  in  their  winter  garments.  A 
rosy  flush  stole  over  the  snow,  which  kindled 
with  the  growing  morn,  till  they  shone  like 
clouds  that  float  in  the  sunrise. *  The  Clitum- 
nus, beside  us,  was  the  purest  of  streams.  The 
heavy  rains  which  had  fallen,  had  not  soiled  in 
the  least  its  limpid  crystal. 

When  it  grew  light  enough,  I  looked  at  our 
companions  for  the  three  days'  journey.  The 
two  other  inside  seats  were  occupied  by  a  trades- 
man of  Trieste,  with  his  wife  and  child;  an  old 
soldier,  and  a  young  dragoon  going  to  visit  his 
parents  after  seven  years'  absence,  occupied  the 
front  part.  Persons  travelling  together  in  a 
carriage  are  not  long  in  becoming  acquainted — 
close  companionship  soon  breeds  familiarity. 
Before  night,  I  had  made  a  fast  friend  of  the 
young  soldier,  learned  to  bear  the  perverse 
humor  of  the  child  with  as  much  patience  as  its 
father,  and  even  drawn  looks  of  grim  kindness 
from  the  crusty  old  yetturino. 

Our  mid-day  resting  place  was  Spoleto.  As 
there  were  two  hours  given  us,  we  took  a  ramble 
through  the  city,  visited  the  ruins  of  its  Roman 
theatre  and  saw  the  gate  erected  to  commem- 
orate the  victory  gained  here  over  Hannibal, 
which  stopped  his  triumphal  march  towards 
Home.  A  great  part  of  the  afternoon  was  spent 
i*.  Ascending  among  the  defiles  of  Monte  Somma, 


THE   VALLET  OF  TERNL  377 

the  highest  pass  on  the  road  between  Ancona 
and  Rome.  Assisted  by  two  yoke  of  oxen  we 
slowly  toiled  up  through  the  snow,  the  mount- 
ains on  both  sides  covered  with  thickets  of  box 
and  evergreen  oaks,  among  whose  leafy  screens 
the  banditti  hide  themselves.  It  is  not  considered 
dangerous  at  present,  bat  as  the  dragoons  who 
used  to  patrol  this  pass  have  been  sent  off  to 
Bologna,  to  keep  down  the  rebellion,  the  rob- 
bers will  probably  return  to  their  old  haunts 
again.  We  saAV  many  suspicious  looking  cov- 
erts, where  they  might  have  hidden. 

We  slept  at  Term  and  did  not  see  the  falls— 
not  exactly  on  Wordsworth's  principle  of  leav- 
ing Yarrow  "unvisited,"  but  because  under  the 
circumstances,  it  was  impossible.  The  vetturino 
did  not  arrive  there  till  after  dark;  he  was  to 
leave  before  dawn ;  the  distance  was  five  miles, 
and  the  roads  very  bad.  Besides,  we  had  seen 
falls  quite  as  grand,  which  needed  only  a  Byron 
to  make  them  as  renowned — we  had  been  told 
that  those  of  Tivoli,  which  we  shall  see,  were 
equally  fine.  The  Velino,  which  we  crossed  near 
Terni,  was  not  a  large  stream — in  short,  we 
hunted  as  many  reasons  as  we  could  find,  why 
the  falls  need  not  be  seen. 

Leaving  Terni  before  day,  we  drove  up  the 
long  vale  towards  Narni.  The  roads  were  frozen 
hard ;  the  ascent  becoming  more  difficult,  the 
vetturino  was  obliged  to  stop  at  a  farm-house 
and  get  another  pair  of  horses,  with  which,  and 
a  handsome  young  contadino  as  postillion,  we 
reached  Narni  in  a  short  time.  In  climbing  the 
hill,  we  had  a  view  of  the  whole  valley  of  Terni, 
shut  in  on  all  sides  by  snow-crested  Apennines, 
and  threaded  by  the  Nar,  whose  waters  flow 
"with  many  windings,  through  the  vale!" 

At  Otricoli,  while  dinner  was  preparing,  I 
walked  around  the  crumbling  battlements  to 
look  down  into  the  valley  and  trace  the  far 
windings  of  the  Tiber.  In  rambling  through  the 


378  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

crooked  streets,  we  saw  everywhere  the  remains 
of  the  splendor  which  this  place  boasted  in  the 
days  of  Rome.  Fragments  of  fluted  pillars 
stood  here  and  there  in  the  streets ;  large  blocks 
of  marble  covered  with  sculpture  and  inscrip- 
tions were  built  into  the  houses,  defaced  statues 
used  as  door-ornaments,  and  the  stepping-stone 
to  our  rude  inn,  worn  every  day  by  the  feet  of 
grooms  and  vetturini,  contained  some  letters  of 
an  inscription  which  may  have  recorded  the 
glory  of  an  emperor. 

Travelling  \vith  a  vetturino,  is  unquestionably 
the  pleasantest  way  of  seeing  Italy.  The  easy 
rate  of  the  journey  allows  time  for  becoming 
well  acquainted  with  the  country,  and  the 
tourist  is  freed  from  the  annoyance  of  quarrel- 
ling with  cheating  landlords.  A  translation  of 
our  written  contract,  will  best  explain  this  mode 
of  travelling : 

"CARRIAGE  FOR  ROME. 

"Our  contract  is,  to  be  conducted  to  Rome 
for  the  sum  of  twenty  francs  each,  say  20f.  and 
the  buona  mano,  if  we  are  well  served.  We 
must  have  from  the  vetturino,  Giuseppe  Ner- 

Eiti,  supper  each  night,  a  free  chamber  with  two 
eds,  and  fire,  until  we  shall  arrive  at  Rome. 
"I,  Geronymo  Sartarelli,  steward  of  the  Inn 
of  the  White  Cross,  at  Foligno,  in  testimony  of 
the  above  contract." 

Beyond  Otricoli,  we  passed  through  some 
relics  of  an  age  anterior  to  Rome.  A  few  soiled 
masses  of  masonry,  black  with  age,  stood 
along  the  brow  of  the  mountain,  on  whose  ex- 
tremity were  the  ruins  of  a  castle  of  the  middle 
ages.  We  crossed  the  Tiber  on  a  bridge  built 
by  Augustus  Caesar,  and  reached  Borghetto  as 
the  sun  was  gilding  with  its  last  rays  the  ruined 
citadel  above.  As  the  carriage  with  its  four 


MONTR  SORACTB.  37§ 

horses  was  toiling  slowly  up  the  hill,  we  got  out 
and  walked  before,  to  gaze  on  the  green  mead- 
ows of  the  Tiber. 

On  descending  from  Narni,  I  noticed  a  high, 
prominent  mountain,  whose  ridgy  back,  some- 
what like  the  profile  of  a  face,  reminded  me  oi 
the  Traunstein,  in  Upper  Austria.  As  we  ap- 
proached, its  form  gradually  changed,  until  it 
•tood  on  the  Campagna 

**  Like  a  long-swept  wave  about  to  break, 
That  on  the  curl  hangs  pausing  "— 

and  by  that  token  of  a  great  bard,  I  recognized 
Monte  Soracte.  The  dragoon  took  us  by  the 
arms,  and  away  we  scampered  over  the  Cam- 
pagna, with  one  of  the  loveliest  sunsets  before 
us,  that  ever  painted  itself  on  my  retina.  I 
cannot  portray  in  words  the  glory  that  flooded 
the  whole  western  heaven.  It  was  like  a  sea  of 
melted  ruby,  amethyst  and  topaz — deep,  daz- 
zling and  of  crystal  transparency.  The  color 
changed  in  tone  every  few  minutes,  till  in  hah* 
an  hour  it  sank  away  before  the  twilight  to  a 
belt  of  deep  orange  along  the  west. 

We  left  Civita  Castellana  before  daylight. 
The  sky  was  red  with  dawn  as  we  approached 
Nepi,  and  we  got  out  to  walk,  in  the  clear, 
frosty  air.  A  magnificent  Koman  aqueduct, 
part  of  it  a  double  row  of  arches,  still  supplies 
the  town  with  water.  There  is  a  deep  ravine, 
appearing  as  if  rent  in  the  ground  by  some  con- 
vulsion, on  the  eastern  side  f  the  city.  A  clear 
stream  that  steals  through  the  arches  of  the 
aqueduct,  falls  in  a  cascade  of  sixty  feet  down 
into  the  chasm,  sending  up  constant  wreaths  of 
spray  through  the  evergreen  foliage  that  clothes 
the  rocks.  In  walking  over  the  desolate  Cam- 
pagna, we  saw  many  deep  chambers  dug  in  the 
earth,  used  by  the  charcoal  burners ;  the  air  was 
filled  with  sulphureous  exhalations,  very  offen- 


380  VIRWS  A- FOOT. 

sive  to  the  smell,  which  rose  from  the  ground  in 
many  places. 

Miles  and  miles  of  the  dreary  waste,  covered 
only  with  flocks  of  grazing  sheep,  were  passed, 
— and  about  noon  we  reached  Baccano,  a  small 
post  station,  twenty  miles  from  Rome.  A  long 
hill  rose  before  us,  and  we  sprang  out  of  the 
carriage  and  ran  ahead,  to  see  Rome  from  its 
summit.  As  we  approached  the  top,  the  Cam 
pagna  spread  far  before  and  around  us,  level  and 
blue  as  an  ocean.  I  climbed  up  a  high  bank  by 
the  roadside,  and  the  whole  scene  came  in  view. 
Perhaps  eighteen  miles  distant  rose  the  dome  of 
St.  Peter's,  near  the  horizon — a  small  spot  on 
the  vast  plain.  Beyond  it  and  further  east, 
were  the  mountains  of  Albano — on  our  left 
Soracte  and  the  Apennines,  and  a  blue  line 
along  the  west  betrayed  the  Mediterranean. 
There  was  nothing  peculiarly  beautiful  or  sub- 
lime in  the  landscape,  but  few  other  scenes  on 
earth  combine  in  one  glance  such  a  myriad  of 
mighty  associations,  or  bewilder  the  mind  with 
such  a  crowd  of  confused  emotions. 

As  we  approached  Rome,  the  dragoon,  with 
whom  we  had  been  walking  all  day,  became 
anxious  and  impatient.  He  had  not  heard  from 
his  parents  for  a  long  time,  and  knew  not  if  they 
were  living.  His  desire  to  be  at  the  end  of  his 
journey  finally  became  so  great,  that  he  hailed 
a  peasant  who  was  driving  by  in  a  light  vehicle, 
left  our  slow  carriage  and  went  out  of  sight 
in  a  gallop. 

As  we  descended  to  the  Tiber  in  the  dusk  of 
evening,  the  domes  and  spires  of  Rome  came 
gradually  into  view,  St.  Peter's  standing  like  a 
mountain  in  the  midst  of  them.  Crossing  the 
yellow  river  by  the  Ponte  Molle,  two  miles  of 
road,  straight  as  an  arrow,  lay  before  us,  with 
the  light  of  the  Port  a  del  Popolo  at  the  end.  I 
felt  strangely  excited  as  the  old  vehicle  rumbled 
through  the  arch,  and  we  entered  a  square  with 


ENTRANCE  INTO  ROME.  381 

fountains  and  an  obelisk  of  Egj^ptian  granite  in 
the  centre.  Delivering  up  our  passports,  we 
waited  until  the  necessary  examinations  were 
made,  and  then  went  forward.  Three  streets 
branch  out  from  the  square,  the  middle  one 
of  which,  leading  directly  to  the  Capitol,  is  the 
Corso,  the  Roman  Broadway.  Our  vetturino 
chose  that  to  tha  left,  the  Via  della  Scrofa,  lead- 
ing off  toward  the  bridge  of  St.  Angelo.  I 
looked  out  the  windows  as  we  drove  along,  but 
saw  nothing  except  butcher-shops,  grocer-stores, 
etc. — horrible  objects  for  a  sentimental  traveller  I 

Being  emptied  out  on  the  pavement  at  last, 
our  first  care  was  to  find  rooms ;  after  searching 
through  many  streets,  with  a  coarse  old  Italian 
who  spoke  like  an  angel,  we  arrived  at  a  square 
where  the  music  of  a  fountain  was  heard  through 
the  dusk  and  an  obelisk  cut  out  some  of  the  star- 
light. At  the  other  end  I  saw  a  portico  through 
the  darkness,  and  my  heart  gave  a  breathless 
bound  on  recognizing  the  Pantheon — the  match- 
less temple  of  Ancient  Rome !  And  now  while  I 
am  writing,  I  hear  the  gush  of  the  fountain — and 
if  I  step  to  the  window,  I  see  the  time-worn  but 
still  glorious  edifice. 

On  returning  for  our  baggage,  we  met  the 
funeral  procession  of  the  Princess  Altieri.  Priests 
in  white  and  gold  carried  flaming  torches,  and 
the  coffin,  covered  with  a  magnificent  golden 
pall,  was  borne  in  a  splendid  hearse,  guarded  by 
four  priests.  As  we  were  settling  our  account 
with  the  vetturino,  who  demanded  much  more 
buona  mano  than  we  were  willing  to  give,  the 
young  dragoon  returned.  He  was  greatly 
agitated.  "I  have  been  at  home!"  said  he,  in  a 
voice  trembling  with  emotion.  I  was  about  to 
ask  him  further  concerning  his  family,  but  he 
kissed  and  embraced  us  warmly  and  hurriedly, 
saying  he  had  only  come  to  say"addio!" 
and  to  leave  us.  I  stop  writing  to  ramble 
through  Rome.  This  city  of  all  cities  to  me— 


382  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

this  dream  of  my  boyhood— giant,  god-like, 
fallen  Rome — is  around  me,  and  I  revel  in  a  glow 
of  anticipation  and  exciting  thought  that  seems 
to  change  my  whole  state  of  being. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

ROME. 

Dec.  29. — One  day's  walk  through  Rome— how 
shall  I  describe  it?  The  Capitol,  the  Forum,  St. 
Peter's,  the  Coliseum — what  few  hours'  ramble 
ever  took  in  places  so  hallowed  by  poetry,  his- 
tory and  art?  It  was  a  golden  leaf  in  my  cal- 
endar of  life.  In  thinking  over  it  now,  and 
drawing  out  the  threads  of  recollection  from  the 
varied  woof  of  thought  I  have  woven  to-day,  I 
almost  wonder  how  I  dared  so  much  at  once ; 
but  within  reach  of  them  all,  how  was  it  possi- 
ble to  wait?  Let  me  give  a  sketch  of  our  day's 
ramble. 

Hearing  that  it  was  better  to  visit  the  ruins 
by  evening  or  moonlight,  (alas!  thereisno  moon 
now)  we  started  out  to  hunt  St.  Peter's.  Going 
in  the  direction  of  the  Corso,  we  passed  the 
ruined  front  of  the  magnificent  Temple  of  Anto- 
ninus, now  used  as  the  Papal  Custom  House. 
We  turned  to  the  right  on  entering  the  Corso, 
expecting  to  have  a  view  of  the  city  from  the 
hill  at  its  southern  end.  It  is  a  magnificent 
street,  lined  with  palaces  and  splendid  edifices  of 
every  kind,  and  always  filled  with  crowds  of  car- 
riages and  people.  On  leaving  it,  however,  we 
became  bewildered  among  the  narrow  streets- 
passed  through  a  market  of  vegetables,  crowded 
with  beggars  and  contadini— threaded  many  by- 
ways between  dark  old  buildings — saw  one  or 


A  DAT'S  RAMBLE  IN  ROME.  383 

two  antique  fountains  and  many  modern 
churches,  and  finally  arrived  at  a  hill. 

We  ascended  many  steps,  and  then  descending 
a  little  towards  the  other  side,  saw  suddenly 
below  us  the  liomnn  Forum  !  I  knew  it  at  once 
— and  those  three  Corinthian  columns  that  stood 
near  us — what  could  they  be  but  the  remains  of 
the  temple  of  Jupiter  Stator?  We  stood  on  the 
Capitoline  Hill ;  at  the  foot  was  the  Arch  of  Septi- 
mus Severus,  brown  with  age  and  shattered ;  near 
it  stood  the  majestic  front  of  the  Temple  of 
Fortune,  its  pillars  of  polished  granite  glistening 
in  the  sun,  as  if  they  had  been  erected  yesterday, 
while  on  the  left  the  rank  grass  was  waving  from 
the  arches  and  mighty  walls  of  the  Palace  of 
the  Caesars !  In  front,  ruin  upon  ruin  lined  the 
wi.iy  for  half  a  mile,  where  the  Coliseum  towered 
grandly  through  the  blue  morning  mist,  at  the 
base  of  the  Esquiline  Hill ! 

Good  heavens,  what  a  scene !  Grandeur,  such 
as  the  world  never  saw,  once  rose  through  that 
blue  atmosphere;  splendor  inconceivable,  the 
spoils  of  a  world,  the  triumphs  of  a  thousand 
armies  had  passed  over  that  earth;  minds  which 
for  ages  moved  the  ancient  world  had  thought 
there,  and  words  of  power  and  glory,  from  the 
lips  of  immortal  men,  had  been  syllabled  on  that 
hallowed  air.  To  call  back  all  this  on  the  very 
spot,  while  the  wreck  of  what  once  wras,  rose 
mouldering  and  desolate  around,  aroused  a 
sublimity  of  thought  and  feeling  too  powerful 
for  words. 

Returning  at  hazard  through  the  streets,  we 
came  suddenly  upon  the  column  of  Trajan, 
standing  in  an  excavated  square  below  the  level 
of  the  city,  amid  a  number  of  broken  granite 
columns,  Avhich  formed  part  of  the  Forum  dedi- 
cated to  him  by  Rome,  after  the  conquest  of 
Daci.i.  The  column  is  one  hundred  and  thirty- 
two  feet  high,  and  entirely  covered  with  bas- 
reliefs  representing  his  victories;  winding  about 


384  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

it  in  a  spiral  line  to  the  top.  The  number  of 
figures  is  computed  at  two  thousand  five  hun- 
dred, and  they  were  of  such  excellence  that 
Ilaphael  used  many  of  them  for  his  models. 
They  are  now  much  defaced,  and  the  column  is 
surmounted  by  a  statue  of  some  saint.  The 
inscription  on  the  pedestal  has  been  erased,  and 
the  name  of  Sixtus  V.  substituted.  Nothing 
can  exceed  the  ridiculous  vanity  of  the  old  popes 
in  thus  mutilating  the  finest  monuments  of 
ancient  art.  You  cannot  look  upon  an}T  relic  of 
antiquity  in  Rome,  but  your  eyes  are  assailed 
by  the  words  "PONTIFEX  MAXIM  us,"  in  staring 
modern  letters.  Even  the,  magnificent  bronzes 
of  the  Pantheon  were  stripped  to  make  the 
baldachin  under  the  dome  of  St.  Peter's. 

Finding  our  way  back  again,  we  took  afresh 
start,  happily  in  the  right  direction,  and  after 
walking  some  time,  came  out  on  the  Tiber,  at 
the  Bridge  of  St.  Angelo.  The  river  rolled  below 
in  his  muddy  glory,  and  in  front,  on  the  opposite 
bank,  stood  "the  pile  which  Hadrian  reared  on 
high  " — now,  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo.  Knowing 
that  St.  Peter's  was  to  be  seen  from  this  bridge, 
I  looked  about  in  search  of  it.  There  was  only 
one  dome  in  sight,  large  and  of  beautiful  propor- 
tions. I  said  at  once,  "surely  that  cannot  be  St. 
Peter's! "  On  looking  again,  however,  I  saw  the 
top  of  a  massive  range  of  building  near  it,  which 
corresponded  so  nearly  with  the  pictures  of  the 
Vatican,  that  I  was  unwillingly  forced  to  believe 
the  mighty  dome  wr as  really  before  me.  I  recog- 
nized it  as  one  of  those  we  "saw  from  the  Capitol, 
but  it  appeared  so  much  smaller  when  viewed  from 
a  greater  distance,  that  I  was  quite  deceived.  On 
considering  we  were  still  three-fourths  of  a  mile 
from  it,  and  that  we  could  see  its  minutest  parts 
distinctly,  the  illusion  was  explained. 

Goin^  directly  down  the  Borgo  Vecchio,  to- 
wards it.  it  seemed  a  long  time  before  we  arrived 
at  the  square  of  St.  Peter's ;  when  at  length  we 


ST.  PETER'S.  38S 

stood  in  front  with  uhe  majestic  colonnade 
sweeping  around — the  fountains  on  each  side 
sending  up  their  showers  of  silvery  spray — the 
mighty  obelisk  of  Egyptian  granite  piercing  the 
sky — and  beyond,  the  great  front  and  dome  of 
the  Cathedral,  I  confessed  my  unmingled  admira- 
tion. It  recalled  to  my  mind  the  grandeur  of 
ancient  Rome,  and  mighty  as  her  edifices  must 
have  been,  I  doubt  if  there  were  many  viewg 
more  overpowering  than  this.  The  facade  of  St. 
Peter's  seemed  close  to  us,  but  it  was  a  third  of 
a  mile  distant,  and  the  people  ascending  the 
steps  dwindled  to  pigmies. 

I  passed  the  obelisk,  went  up  the  long  ascent, 
crossed  the  portico,  pushed  aside  the  heavy 
leathern  curtain  at  the  entrance,  and  stood  in 
the  great  nave.  I  need  not  describe  my  feelings 
at  the  sight,  but  I  will  tell  the  dimensions,  and 
you  may  then  fancy  what  they  were.  Before  me 
was  a  marble  plain  six  hundred  feet  long,  and 
under  the  cross  four  hundred  and  seventeen  feet 
wide !  One  hundred  and  fifty  feet  above,  sprang 
a  glorious  arch,  dazzling  with  inlaid  gold,  and 
in  the  centre  of  the  cross  there  were  four  hundred 
feet  of  air  between  me  and  the  top  of  the  dome ! 
The  sunbeam,  stealing  through  the  lofty  window 
at  one  end  of  the  transept,  made  a  bar  of  light 
on  the  blue  air,  hazy  with  incense,  one-tenth  of  a 
mile  long,  before  it  fell  on  the  mosaics  and  gilded 
shrines  of  the  other  extremity.  The  grand 
cupola  alone,  including  lantern  and  cross,  is  two 
hundred  and  eighty-five  feet  high,  or  sixty  feet 
higher  than  the  Bunker  Hill  Monument,  and  the 
four  immense  pillars  on  which  it  rests  are  each 
one  hundred  and  thirty-seven  feet  in  circumfer- 
ence! It  seems  as  if  human  art  had  outdone 
itself  in  producing  this  temple — the  grandest 
which  the  world  ever  erected  for  the  worship  of 
the  Living  God !  The  awe  felt  at  looking  up  at 
the  giant  arch  of  marble  and  gold,  did  not  hum- 
ble me;  on  the  coutrarv,  I  felt  exalted,  ennobled 


386  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

—beings  in  the  form  I  wore  planned  the  glorious 
edifice,  and  it  seemed  that  in  godlike  power  and 
perseverance,  they  were  indeed  but  "a  little 
lower  than  the  angels!"  I  felt  that,  if  fallen, 
my  race  was  still  mighty  and  immortal. 

The  Vatican  is  only  open  twice  a  week,  on 
days  which  are  not  festas;  most  fortunately,  to- 
day happened  to  be  one  of  these,  and  we  took  a 
run  through  its  endless  halls.  The  extent  and 
magnificence  of  the  gallery  of  sculpture  is  per- 
fectly amazing.  The  halls,  which  are  filled  to 
overflowing  with  the  finest  works  of  ancient  art, 
would,  if  placed  side  by  side,  make  a  row  more 
than  two  miles  in  length!  You  enter  at  once 
into  a  hall  of  marble,  with  a  magnificent  arched 
ceiling,  a  third  of  a  mile  long ;  the  sides  are  cov- 
ered for  a  great  distance  with  inscriptions  of 
every  kind,  divided  into  compartments  accord- 
ing to  the  era  of  the  empire  to  which  they  refer. 
One  which  I  examined,  appeared  to  be  a  kind  of 
index  of  the  roads  in  Italy,  with  the  towns  on 
them ;  and  we  could  decipher  on  that  time-worn 
block,  the  very  route  I  had  followed  from  Flor- 
ence hither. 

Then  came  the  statues,  and  here  I  am  bewil- 
dered, how  to  describe  them.  Hundreds  upon 
hundreds  of  figures — statues  of  citizens,  generals, 
emperors  and  gods — fauns,  satyrs  and  nymphs 
— children, 'cupids  and  tritons — in  fact,  it  seemed 
inexhaustible.  Many  of  them,  too,  were  forma 
of  matchless  beauty;  there  were  Venuses  and 
nymphs,  born  of  the  loftiest  dreams  of  grace: 
fauns  on  whose  faces  shone  the  very  soul  of 
humor,  and  heroes  and  divinities  with  an  air  of 
majesty  wrorthy  the  "land  of  lost  gods  and  god- 
like men!" 

I  am  lost  in  astonishment  at  the  perfection  of 
art  attained  by  the  Greeks  and  Romans.  There 
is  scarcely  a  form  of  beauty,  that  has  ever  met 
my  eye,  which  is  not  to  be  found  in  this  gallery. 
I  should  almost  despair  of  such  another  blazt 


GALLERT  O*  THE  VATICAN.  381 

of  glory  on  the  world,  were  it  not  my  devout 
belief  that  what  has  been  done  may  be  done 
again,  and  had  I  not  faith  that  the  dawn  in 
which  we  live  will  bring  another  day  equally 
glorious.  And  why  should  not  America,  with 
the  experience  and  added  wisdom  which  three 
thousand  years  have  slowly  yielded  to  the  old 
world,  joined  to  the  giant  energy  of  her  youth, 
and  freedom,  re-bestow  on  the  world  Ihe  divine 
creations  of  art  ?  Let  Powers  answer ! 

But  let  us  step  on  to  the  hemicycle  of  the  Bel- 
videre,  and  view  some  works  greater  than  any  we 
have  yet  seen,  or  even  imagined.  The  adjoining 
gallery  is  filled  with  masterpieces  of  sculpture, 
but  we  will  keep  our  eyes  unwearied  and  merely 
glance  along  the  rows.  At  length  we  reach  a  cir- 
cular court  with  a  fountain  flinging  up  its  waters 
in  the  centre.  Before  us  is  an  open  cabinet; 
there  is  a  beautiful,  manly  form  within,  but  you 
would  not  for  an  instant  take  it  for  the  Apollo. 
By  the  Gorgon  head  it  holds  aloft,  we  recognize 
Oanova's  Perseus — he  has  copied  the  form  and 
attitude  of  the  Apollo,  but  he  could  not  breathe 
into  it  the  same  warming  fire.  It  seemed  to  me 
particularly  lifeless,  and  I  greatly  preferred  his 
Boxers,  who  stand  on  either  side  of  it.  One,  who 
has  drawn  back  in  the  attitude  of  striking,  looks 
as  if  he  could  fell  an  ox  with  a  single  blow  of  his 
powerful  arm.  The  other  is  a  more  lithe  and 
agile  figure,  and  there  is  a  quick  fire  in  his  coun- 
tenance which  might  overbalance  the  massive 
strength  of  his  opponent. 

Another  cabinet — this  is  the  far-famed  Antin- 
ous.  A  countenance  of  perfect  Grecian  beauty, 
with  a  form  such  as  we  would  imagine  for  one  of 
Homer's  heroes.  His  features  are  in  repose,  and 
there  is  something  in  their  calm,  settled  expres- 
sion, strikingly  like  life. 

Now  we  look  on  a  scene  of  the  deepest  physical 
agony.  Mark  how  every  muscle  of  old  Lao- 
coon's  body  is  distended  to  the  utmost  in  the 


&88  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

mighty  struggle !  What  intensity  of  pain  in  th« 
quivering,  distorted  features!  Every  nerve, 
which  despair  can  call  into  action,  is  excited  in 
one  giant  effort,  and  a  scream  of  anguish  seema 
just  to  have  quivered  on  those  marble  lips.  The 
serpents  have  rolled  their  strangling  coils  around 
father  and  sons,  but  terror  has  taken  awaj"  the 
strength  of  the  latter,  and  they  make  but  feeble 
resistance.  After  looking  with  indifference  on 
the  many  casts  of  this  group,  I  was  the  more 
moved  by  the  magnificent  original.  It  deserves 
all  the  admiration  that  has  been  heaped  upon  it. 

I  absolutely  trembled  on  approaching  the  cab- 
inet of  the  Apollo.  I  had  built  up  in  fancy  a 
glorious  ideal,  drawn  from  all  that  bards  have 
wipg  or  artists  have  rhapsodized  about  its  di- 
Yipe  beauty.  I  feared  iisappointment — I  dreaded 
to  have  my  ideal  displaced  and  my  faith  in  the 
power  of  human  genius  overthrown  by  a  form 
less  than  perfect.  However,  with  a  feeling  of 
desperate  excitement,  I  entered  and  looked 
upon  it. 

Now  what  shall  I  say  of  it?  How  make  you 
comprehend  its  immortal  beauty?  To  what 
shall  I  liken  its  gloiious  perfection  of  form,  or 
the  fire  that  imbues  the  cold  marble  with  the 
soul  of  a  god  ?  Not  with  sculpture,  for  it  stands 
alone  and  above  all  other  works  of  art — nor 
with  men,  for  it  has  a  majesty  more  than  human. 
I  gazed  on  it,  lost  in  wonder  and  joy— joy  that  I 
could,  at  last,  take  into  my  mind  a  faultless 
ideal  of  godlike,  exalted  manhood.  The  figure 
appears  actually  to  possess  a  spirit,  and  I  looked 
on  it,  not  as  a  piece  of  marble,  but  a  being  of 
loftier  mould,  and  half  expected  to  see  him  step 
forward  when  the  arrow  had  reached  its  mark. 
I  would  give  worlds  to  feel  one  moment  the 
sculptor's  mental  triumph  when  his  work  w;is 
completed ;  that  one  exulting  thrill  must  have 
repaid  him  for  every  ill  he  might  have  suffered 
on  earth!  With  what  divine  inspiration  has  he 


RAPHAEL'S  "TRANSFIGURATION*       38» 

wrought  its  faultless  lines !  There  is  a  spirit  in 
every  limb  which  mere  toil  could  not  have  given. 
It  must  have  been  caught  in  those  lofty  momenta 

44  When  each  conception  was  a  heavenly  guest— 
A  ray  of  immortality — and  stood 
Star-like,  around,  until  they  gathered  to  a  god?" 

"We  ran  through  a  series  of  halls,  roofed  with 

t  olden  stars  on  a  deep  blue,  midnight  sky,  and 
lied  with  porphyry  vases,  black  marble  gods, 
and  mummies.  Some  of  the  statues  shone  with 
the  matchless  polish  they  had  received  from  a 
Theban  artisan  before  Athens  was  founded,  and 
are,  apparently,  as  fresh  and  perfect  as  when 
looked  upon  by  the  vassals  of  Sesostris.  Not- 
withstanding their  stiff,  rough-hewn  limbs,  there 
were  some  figures  of  great  beauty,  and  they  gave 
me  a  much  higher  idea  of  Egyptian  sculpture. 
In  an  adjoining  hall,  containing  colossal  busts 
of  the  gods,  is  a  vase  forty-one  feet  in  circumfer- 
ence, of  one  solid  block  of  red  porphyry. 

The  "Transfiguration"  is  truly  called  the 
first  picture  in  tne  world.  The  same  glow  of 
inspiration  which  created  the  Belvidere,  must 
have  been  required  to  paint  the  Saviour's  aerial 
form.  The  three  figures  hover  above  the  earth 
in  a  blaze  of  glory,  seemingly  independent  of  all 
material  laws.  The  terrified  Apostles  on  the 
mount,  and  the  wondering  group  below,  corre- 
spond in  the  grandeur  of  their  expression  to  the 
awe  and  majesty  of  the  scene.  The  only  blemish 
in  the  sublime  perfection  of  the  picture  is  the 
introduction  of  the  two  small  figures  on  the  left 
hand ;  who,  by-the-bye,  were  Cardinals,  inserted 
there  by  command.  Some  travellers  say  the 
color  is  all  lost,  but  I  was  agreeably  surprised 
to  find  it  well  preserved.  It  is,  undoubtedly, 
somewhat  imperfect  in  this  respect,  as  Raphael 
died  before  it  was  entirely  finished  ;  but  "take  it 
all  in  all,"  you  may  search  the  world  in  vain  to 
find  its  equal. 


890  VIEWS  A- FOOT.    . 

January  1,  1846. — New  Year's  Day  in  the 
Eternal  City!  It  will  be  something  to  say  iii 
after  years,  that  I  have  seen  one  year  open  in 
Rome — that,  while  my  distant  friends  were  mak- 
ing up  for  the  winter  without,  with  good  cheer 
around  the  merry  board,  I  have  walked  in 
sunshine  by  the  ruins  of  the  Coliseum,  watched 
the  orange  groves  gleaming1  with  golden  fruitage 
in  the  Farnese  gardens,  trodden  the  daisied 
meadow  around  the  sepulchre  of  Caius  Cestius, 
and  mused  by  the  graves  of  Shelley,  Keats  ami 
Salvator  Rosa !  The  Palace  of  the  Caesars  looked 
even  more  mournful  in  the  pale,  slant  sunshine, 
and  the  3'ellow  Tiber,  as  he  flowed  through  the 
"marble  wilderness,"  seemed  sullenly  counting  up 
the  long  centuries  during  which  degenerate 
slaves  have  trodden  his  banks.  A  leaden-colored 
haze  clothed  the  seven  hills,  and  heavy  silence 
reigned  among  the  ruins,  for  all  work  was 
prohibited,  and  the  people  were  gathered  in 
their  churches.  Home  never  appeared  so  des- 
olate and  melancholy  as  to-day. 

In  the  morning  I  climbed  theQuirinal  Hill,  now 
called  Monte  Cavallo,  from  the  colossal  statues 
of  Castor  and  Pollux,  with  their  steeds,  supposed 
to  be  the  work  of  Phidias  and  Praxiteles. 
They  stand  on  each  side  of  an  obelisk  of  Egyptian 
granite,  beside  which  a  strong  stream  of  water 
gushes  up  into  a  magnificent  bronze  basin, 
found  in  the  old  Forum.  The  statues,  entirely 
browned  by  age,  are  considered  masterpieces  of 
Grecian  art,  and  whether  or  not  from  the  great 
masters,  show  in  all  their  proportions,  the  con- 
ceptions of  lofty  genius. 

We  kept  on  our  way  between  gardens  filled 
v;ith  orange  groves,  whose  glowing  fruit  reminded 
me  of  Mignon's  beautiful  reminiscence — "Im 
dunkelnLaubdie  Gold  Orangen  gluhn!''  Rome, 
although  subject  to  cold  winds  from  the  Apen- 
nines, enjoys  so  mild  a  climate  that  oranges  and 
palm  trees  grow  in  the  open  ah1,  without 


GRA  VBS  OF  SHELLEl'  AND  KEATS.      391 

protection.  Daisies  and  violets  bloom  the  whole 
winter,  in  the  meadows  of  never-fading  green. 
The  basilic  of  the  Lateran  equals  St.  Peter's  in 
splendor,  though  its  size  is  much  smaller.  The 
walls  are  covered  with  gorgeous  hangings  of 
velvet  embroidered  with  gold,  and  before  the 
high  altar,  which  glitters  with  precious  stones, 
are  four  pillars  of  gilt  bronze,  said  to  be  those 
which  Augustus  made  of  the  spars  of  Egyptian 
vessels  captured  at  the  battle  of  Actium. 

We  descended  the  hill  to  the  Coliseum,  and 
passing  under  the  Arch  of  Constantine,  wralked 
along  the  ancient  triumphal  way,  at  the  foot  of 
the  Palatine  Hill,  which  is  entirely  covered  with 
the  ruins  of  the  Caesars'  Palace.  A  road,  round- 
ing its  southern  base  toward  the  Tiber,  brought 
us  to  the  Temple  of  Vesta — a  beautiful  little 
relic  which  has  been  singularly  spared  by  the 
devastations  that  have  overthrown  so  many 
mightier  fabrics.  It  is  of  circular  form,  sur- 
rounded by  nineteen  Corinthian  columns,  thirty- 
six  feet  in  height ;  a  clumsy  tiled  roof  now  takes 
the  place  of  the  elegant  cornice  which  once  gave 
the  crowning  charm  to  its  perfect  proportions. 
Close  at  hand  are  the  remains  of  the  temple  of 
Fortuna  Virilis,  of  which  some  Ionic  pillars  alone 
are  left,  and  the  house  of  Cola  di  Rienzi — the  last 
Tribune  of  Rome. 

As  we  approached  the  walls,  the  sepulchre  of 
Caius  Cestius  came  in  sight — a  single  solid  pyra- 
mid, one  hundred  feet  in  height.  The  walls  are 
built  against  it,  and  the  light  apex  rises  far 
above  the  massive  gate  beside  it,  which  was 
erected  by  Belisarius.  But  there  were  other 
tombs  at  hand,  for  which  we  had  more  sympa- 
thy than  that  of  the  forgotten  Roman,  and  we 
turned  away  to  look  for  the  graves  of  Shelley 
and  Keats. 

They  lie  in  the  Protestant  burying  ground,  on 
the  side  of  a  mound  that  slopes  gently  up  to  the 
old  wall  of  Rome,  beside  the  pyramid  of  Ces- 


392  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

tius.  The  meadow  around  is  still  verdant  and 
sown  thick  with  daisies,  and  the  soft  green  of 
the  Italian  pine  mingles  with  the  dark  cypress 
above  the  slumberers.  Huge  aloes  grow  in  the 
shade,  and  the  sweet  bay  and  bushes  of  rose- 
mary make  the  air  fresh  and  fragrant.  There  is 
a  solemn,  mournful  beauty  about  the  place, 
green  and  lonely  as  it  is,  beside  the  tottering 
walls  of  ancient  Rome,  that  takes  away  the 
gloomy  associations  of  death,  and  makes  one 
wish  to  lie  there,  too,  when  his  thread  shall  be 
spun  to  the  end. 

We  found  first  the  simple  head-stone  of  Keats, 
alone,  in  the  grassy  meadow.  Its  inscription 
states  that  on  his  death-bed,  in  the  bitterness 
of  his  heart,  at  the  malice  of  his  enemies,  he  de- 
sired these  words  to  be  written  on  his  tomb- 
stone: "Here  lies  one  whose  name  was  written 
in  water."  Not  far  from  him  reposes  the  son  of 
Shelley. 

Shelley  himself  lies  at  the  top  of  the  shaded 
slope,  in  a  lonely  spot  by  the  wall,  surrounded 
by  tall  cypresses.  A  little  hedge  of  rose  and  bay 
surrounds  his  grave,  which  bears  the  simple  in- 
scription— " PERCY  BYSSHE  SHELLEY;  Cor  Cor- 
dium." 

"  Nothing  of  him  that  doth  fade, 
But  doth  suffer  a  sea-change 
Into  something  rich  and  strange." 

Glorious,  but  misguided  Shelley!  He  sleeps 
calmly  now  in  that  silent  nook"  and  the  <iir 
around  his  grave  is  filled  with  sighs  from  those 
who  mourn  that  tli.3  bright,  erratic  star  should 
have  been  blotted  out  ere  it  reached  the  zenith 
of  its  mounting  fame.  I  plucked  a  leaf  from  the 
fragrant  bay,  as  a  token  of  his  fame,  and  a  sprig 
of  cypress  from  the  bough  that  bent  lowest  over 
his  grave;  and  passing  between  tombs  shaded 
with  blooming  roses  or  covered  with  unwithered 
garlands,  left  the  lovely  spot. 


THE  RUINS  OF  ROME.  3»3 

Amid  the  excitement  of  continually  changing 
scenes,  I  have  forgotten  to  mention  our  first 
visit  to  the  Coliseum.  The  day  after  our  arrival 
w<>  set  out  with  two  English  friends,  to  see  it  by 
sunset.  Passing  by  the  glorious  fountain  of 
Tn-vi,  we  made  our  way  to  the  Forum,  and 
from  thence  took  the  road  to  the  Coliseum,  lined 
on  both  sides  with  the  remains  of  splendid 
edifices.  The  grass-grown  ruins  of  the  Palace 
of  the  Caesars  stretched  along  on  our  right ;  on 
our  left  we  passed  in  succession  the  granite  front 
of  the  Temple  of  Antoninus  and  Faustina,  the 
three  grand  arches  of  the  Temple  of  Peace  and 
the  ruins  of  the  Temple  of  Venus  and  Rome. 
We  went  under  the  ruined  triumphal  arch  of 
Titus,  with  broken  friezes  representing  the  tak- 
ing of  Jerusalem,  and  the  mighty  walls  of  the 
Coliseum  gradually  rose  before  us.  They  grew 
in  grandeur  as  we  approached  them,  and  when 
at  length  \ve  stood  in  the  centre,  with  the 
shattered  arches  and  grassy  walls  rising  above 
and  beyond  one  another,  far  around  us,  the  red 
light  of  sunset  giving  them  a  soft  and  melan- 
choly beauty,  I  was  fain  to  confess  that  another 
form  of  grandeur  had  entered  my  mind,  of 
which  I  before  knew  not. 

A  majesty  like  that  of  nature  clothes  this  won- 
derful edifice.  Walls  rise  above  walls,  and 
arches  above  arches,  from  every  side  of  the 
grand  arena,  like  a  sweep  of  craggy,  pinnacled 
mountains  around  an  oval  lake.  The  two  outer 
circles  have  almost  entirely  disappeared,  torn 
away  by  the  rapacious  nobles  of  Home,  during 
the  middle  ages,  to  build  their  palaces.  When 
entire,  and  filled  with  its  hundred  thousand 
spectators,  it  must  have  exceeded  any  pageant 
which  the  world  can  now  produce.  No  wonder 
it  was  said — 

"While  stands  the  Coliseum,  Rome  shall  stand; 
When  falls  the  Coliseum,  Rome  shall  fall; 
And  when  Rome  falls,  the  world!" 


394  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

—a  prediction,  which  time  has  not  verified. 
The  world  is  now  going  forward,  prouder  than 
ever,  and  though  we  thank  Rome  for  the  legacy 
she  has  left  us,  we  would  not  wish  the  dust  of 
her  ruin  to  cumber  our  path. 

While  standing  in  the  arena,  impressed  with 
the  spirit  of  the  scene  around  me,  which  grew 
more  spectral  and  melancholy  as  the  dusk  of 
evening  began  to  fill  up  the  broken  arches,  my 
eve  was  assailed  by  the  shrines  ranged  around 
the  space,  doubtless  to  remove  the  pollution  of 
paganism.  In  the  middle  stands  also  a  cross, 
with  an  inscription,  granting  an  absolution  of 
forty  days  to  all  who  kiss  it.  Now,  although  a 
simple  cross  in  the  centre  might  be  very  appro- 
priate, both  as  a  token  of  the  heroic  devotion 
of  the  martyr  Telemachus  and  the  triumph  of  a 
true  religion  over  the  barbarities  of  the  Past, 
this  congregation  of  shrines  and  bloody  pictures 
mars  very  much  the  unity  of  association  so 
necessary  to  the  perfect  enjoyment  of  any  such 
scene. 

We  saw  the  flush  of  sunset  fade  behind  the 
Capitoliue  Hill,  and  passed  homeward  by  the 
Forum,  as  its  shattered  pillars  were  growing 
solemn  and  spectral  through  the  twilight.  I  in- 
tend to  visit  them  often  again,  and  "meditate 
amongst  decay."  I  begin  already  to  grow  at- 
tached to  their  lonely  grandeur.  A  spirit  almost 
human,  speaks  from  the  desolation,  and  there  is 
something  in  the  voiceless  oracles  it  utters,  that 
strikes  an  answering  chord  in  my  own  breast. 

In  the  Via  de1  Pontefici,  not  far  distant  from 
the  Borghese  Palace,  we  saw  the  Mausoleum  of 
Augustus.  It  is  a  large  circular  structure  some- 
what after  the  plan  of  that  of  Hadrian,  but  on 
a  much  smaller  scale.  The  interior  has  been 
cleared  out,  seats  erected  around  the  walls,  and 
the  whole  is  now  a  summer  theatre,  for  the 
amusement  of  the  peasantry  and  tradesmen. 
What  a  tcoinmentar£  on  greatness !  Harlequin 


CHAMBERS  AND  CRA  WFORB.  396 

playing  his  pranks  in  the  tomb  of  an  Emperor, 
and  the  spot  which  nations  approached  with 
reverence,  resounding  with  the  mirth  of  beggars 
and  degraded  vassals ! 

I  visited  lately  the  studio  of  a  young  Phila- 
delphian,  Mr.  W.  B.  Chambers,  who  has  been 
here  two  or  three  years.  In  studying  the  lega- 
cies of  art  which  the  old  masters  left  to  their 
country,  he  has  caught  some  of  the  genuine 
poetic  inspiration  which  warmed  them.  But  he 
is  modest  as  talented,  and  appears  to  under- 
value his  works,  so  long  as  they  do  not  reach 
his  own  mental  ideal.  He  chooses  principally 
subjects  from  the  Italian  peasant-life,  which 
abounds  with  picturesque  and  classic  beauty. 
His  pictures  of  the  shepherd  boy  of  the  Albruzzi, 
and  the  brown  maidens  of  the  Campagna  are  fine 
illustrations  of  this  class,  and  the  fidelity  with 
which  he  copies  nature,  is  an  earnest  of  his  fu- 
ture success. 

I  was  in  the  studio  of  Crawford,  the  sculptor; 
he  has  at  present  nothing  finished  in  the  marble. 
There  were  many  casts  of  his  former  works, 
which,  judging  from  their  appearance  in  plaster, 
must  be  of  no  common  excellence — for  the  sculp- 
tor can  only  be  justly  judged  in  marble.  I  saw 
some  fine  bas-reliefs  of  classical  subjects,  and  an 
exquisite  group  of  Mercury  and  Psyche,  but  his 
masterpiece  is  undoubtedly  the  Orpheus.  There 
is  a  spirit  in  this  figure  which  astonished  me. 
The  face  is  full  of  the  inspiration  of  the  poet, 
softened  by  the  lover's  tenderness,  and  the  whole 
fervor  of  his  soul  is  expressed  in  the  eagerness 
with  which  he  gazes  forward,  on  stepping  past 
the  sleeping  Cerberus.  Crawford  is  now  engaged 
on  the  statue  of  an  Indian  girl,  pierced  by  an 
arrow,  and  dying.  It  is  a  simple  and  touching 
figure,  and  will,  I  think,  be  one  of  his  best 
works. 

We  are  often  amused  with  the  groups  in  the 
square  of  the  Pantheon,  which  we  can  see  from 


396  VIEWS   A-FOOT. 

bur  chamber-window.  Shoemakers  and  tinkers 
carry  on  their  business  along  the  sunny  side, 
while  the  venders  of  oranges  and  roasted  chest- 
nuts form  a  circle  around  the  Egyptian  obelisk 
and  fountain.  Across  the  end  of  an  opposite 
street  we  get  a  glimpse  of  the  vegetable-market, 
and  now  and  then  the  shrill  voice  of  a  pedlar 
makes  its  nasal  solo  audible  above  the  confused 
chorus.  As  the  beggars  choose  the  Corso,  St. 
Peter's,  and  the  ruins  for  their  principal  haunts, 
we  are  now  spared  the  hearing  of  their  lamenta- 
tions. Every  time  we  go  out  we  are  assailed  with 
them.  "Maladetta  sia  la  vostra  testa!" — 
"Curses  be  upon  your  head!" — said  one  whom 
I  passed  without  notice.  The  priests  are,  how- 
ever, the  greatest  beggars. — In  every  church  are 
kept  offering  boxes,  for  the  support  of  the  church 
or  some  unknown  institution ;  they  even  go  from 
house  to  house,  imploring  support  and  assist- 
ance in  the  name  of  the  Virgin  and  all  the  saints, 
while  their  bloated,  sensual  countenances  and 
capacious  frames  tell  of  an3'thing  but  fasts  and 
privations.  Once,  as  I  was  sitting  among  the 
ruins,  I  was  suddenly  startled  by  a  loud,  rattling 
sound ;  turning  my  head,  1  saw  a  figure  clothed 
in  white  from  head  to  foot,  with  only  two  small 
holes  for  the  eyes.  He  held  in  his  hand  a  money- 
box, on  which  was  a  figure  of  the  Virgin,  which 
he  held  close  to  my  lips,  that  I  might  kiss  it. 
This  I  declined  doing,  but  dropped  a  baiocco 
into  his  box,  when,  making  the  sign  of  the  cross, 
he  silently  disappeared. 

Our  present  lodging  (Trattoria  del  Sole)  is  a 
good  specimen  of  an  Italian  inn  for  mechanics 
and  common  tradesmen.  Passing  through  the 
front  room,  which  is  an  eating-place  for  the 
common  people — with  a  barrel  oi  wine  in  the 
corner,  and  bladders  of  lard  hanging  among 
orange  boughs  in  the  window — we  enter  a  dark 
court-yard  filled  with  heavy  carts,  and  noisy 
with  the  neighing  of  horses  and  singing  of 


A  ROMAN  INN.  39? 

grooms,  for  the  stables  occupy  part  of  the 
house.  An  open  staircase,  running  all  around 
this  hollow  square,  leads  to  the  second,  third  and 
fourth  stories. 

On  the  second  story  is  the  dining  room  for  the 
better  class  of  travellers,  who  receive  the  same 
provisions  as  those  below  for  double  the  price, 
and  the  additional  privilege  of  giving  the  waiter 
two  baiocchi.  The  sleeping  apartments  are  in 
the  fourth  story,  and  are  named  according  to  the 
fancy  of  the  former  landlord,  in  mottos  above 
each  door.  Thus,  on  arriving  here,  the  Triester, 
with  his  wife  and  child,  more  fortunate  than  our 
first  parents,  took  refuge  in  "Paradise,"  while 
we  Americans  were  ushered  into  the  "Chamber  of 
Jove."  We  have  occupied  it  ever  since,  and  find 
a  paul  (ten  cents)  apiece  cheap  enough  for  a 
good  bed  and  a  window  opening  on  the  Pan- 
theon. 

Next  to  the  Coliseum,  the  baths  of  Caracalla 
are  the  grandest  remains  of  Eome.  The  build- 
ing is  a  thousand  feet  square,  and  its  massive 
walls  look  as  if  built  by  a  race  of  giants.  These 
Titan  remains  are  covered  with  green  shrubbery, 
and  long  trailing  vines  sweep  over  the  cornice, 
and  wave  down  like  tresses  from  architrave  and 
arch.  In  some  of  its  grand  halls  the  mosaic 
pavement  is  yet  entire.  The  excavations  are 
still  carried  on;  from  the  number  of  statues 
already  found,  this  would  seem  to  have  been 
one  of  the  most  gorgeous  edifices  of  the  olden 
time. 

I  have  been  now  several  days  loitering  and 
sketching  among  the  ruins,  and  I  feel  as  if  I 
could  willingly  wander  for  months  beside  these 
mournful  relics,  and  draw  inspiration  from 
the  lofty  yet  melancholy  lore  they  teach.  There 
is  a  spirit  haunting  them,  real  and  undoubted. 
Every  shattered  column,  every  broken  arch  and 
mouldering  wall,  but  calls  up  more  vividly  to 
mind  the  glory  that  has  passed  away.  Each 


398  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

lonely  pillar  stands  as  proudly  as  if  it  still 
helped  to  bear  up  the  front  of  a  glorious  temple, 
and  the  air  seems  scarcely  to  have  ceased  vibrat- 
ing with  the  clarions  that  heralded  a  conqueror's 
triumph. 

" the  old  majestic  trees 

Stand  ghost  like  in  the  Caesar's  home, 

As  if  their  conscious  roots  were  set 
In  the  old  graves  of  giant  Rome, 

And  drew  their  sap  all  kingly  jet!  " 
****** 
44  There  every  mouldering  stone  beneath 

Is  broken  from  some  mighty  thought, 
And  sculptures  in  the  dust  still  breathe 

The  fire  with  which  their  lines  were  wrought, 
And  sunder'd  arch  and  plundered  tomb 
Still  thunder  back  the  echo — 'Rome!  '  " 

In  Rome  there  is  no  need  that  the  imagination 
be  excited  to  call  up  thrilling  emotion  or  poetic 
reverie — they  are  forced  on  the  mind  by  the  sub- 
lime spirit  of  the  scene.  The  roused  bard 
might  here  pour  forth  his  thoughts  in  the  wildest 
climaces,  and  I  could  believe  he  felt  it  all.  This 
is  like  the  Italy  of  my  dreams — that  golden 
realm  whose  image  has  been  nearly  chased  away 
by  the  earthly  reality.  I  expected  to  find  a  land 
of  light  and  beauty,  where  every  step  crushed  a 
flower  or  displaced  a  sunbeam — whose  very  air 
was  poetic  inspiration,  and  whose  every  scene 
filled  the  soul  with  romantic  feelings.  Nothing  is 
left  of  my  picture  but  the  far-off  mountains, 
robed  in  the  sapphire  veil  of  the  Ausonian  air, 
and  these  ruins,  amid  whose  fallen  glory  sits 
triumphant  the  spirit  of  ancient  song. 

I  have  seen  the  flush  of  morn  and  eve  rest  on 
the  Coliseum;  I  have  seen  the  noon-day  sky 
framed  in  its  broken  loopholes,  like  plates  of 
polished  sapphire;  and  last  night,  as  the  moon 
has  grown  into  the  zenith,  I  went  to  view  it  with 
ker.  Around  the  Forum  all  was  silent  and 
spectral— a  sentinel  challenged  us  at  the  Arch  of 


THE  CAMPAGNA.  399 

Titus,  under  which  we  passed  and  along  the 
Caesar's  wall,  wkich  lay  in  black  shadow.  Dead 
stillness  brooded  around  the  Coliseum ;  the  pale, 
silvery  lustre  streamed  through  its  arches,  and 
over  the  grassy  walls,  giving  them  a  look  of 
ehadowy  grandeur  which  day  could  not  bestow. 
The  scene  will  remain  fresh  in  my  memory  for- 
ever. 


CHAPTEK  XLI. 

TIVOLI  AND  THE  ROMAN  CAMPAGNA. 

Jan.  9. — A  few  days  ago  we  returned  from  an 
excursion  to  Tivoli,  one  of  the  loveliest  spots  in 
Italy.  We  left  the  Eternal  City  by  the  Gate  of 
San  Lorenzo,  and  twenty  minutes'  walk  brought 
us  to  the  bare  and  bleak  Campagna,  which  was 
spread  around  us  for  leagues  in  every  direction. 
Here  and  there  a  shepherd-boy  in  his  woolly 
coat,  with  his  flock  of  browsing  sheep,  were  the 
only  objects  that  broke  its  desert-like  monot- 
ony. 

At  the  fourth  mile  we  crossed  the  rapid  Anio, 
the  ancient  Teverone,  formerly  the  boundary 
between  Latium  and  the  Sabine  dominions,  and 
at  the  tenth,  came  upon  some  fragments  of  the 
old  Tiburtine  way,  formed  of  large  irregular 
blocks  of  basaltic  lava.  A  short  distance  fur- 
ther, we  saw  across  the  plain  the  ruins  of  the 
bath  of  Agrippa,  built  by  the  side  of  the  Tarta- 
rean Lake.  The  wind,  blowing  from  it,  bore  us 
an  overpowering  smell  of  sulphur ;  the  waters  of 
the  little  river  Solfatara,  which  crosses  the  road, 
are  of  a  milky  blue  color,  and  carry  those  of  the 
lake  into  the'Anio.  A  fragment  of  the  old  bridge 
over  it  still  remains. 


400  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

Finding  the  water  quite  warm,  we  determined 
tO'have  a  bath.  So  we  ran  down  the  plain, 
which  was  covered  with  a  thick  coat  of  sulphur, 
and  sounded  hollow  to  our  tread,  till  we  reached 
a  convenient  place,  where  we  threw  off  our 
clothes,  and  plunged  in.  The  warm  wave  was 
delightful  to  the  skin,  but  extremely  offensive  to 
the  smell,  and  when  we  came  out,  our  mouths 
and  throats  were  filled  with  the  stifling  gas. 

It  was  growing  dark  as  we  mounted  through 
the  narrow  streets  of  Tivoli,  but  endeavored  to 
gain  some  sight  of  the  renowned  beauties  of  the 
spot,  before  going  to  rest.  From  a  platform 
on  a  brow  of  the  hill,  we  looked  down  into  the 
defile,  at  whose  bottom  the  Anio  was  roaring, 
and  caught  a  sideward  glance  of  the  Cascatelles, 
sending  up  their  spray  amid  the  evergreen 
bushes  that  fringe  the  rocks.  Above  the  deep 
glen  that  curves  into  the  mountain,  stands  the 
beautiful  temple  of  the  Sybil — a  building  of  the 
most  perfect  and  graceful  proportion.  It  crests 
the  "rocky  brow"  like  a  fairy  dwelling,  and 
looks  all  the  lovelier  for  the  wild  caverns  below. 
Gazing  downward  from  the  bridge,  one  sees  the 
waters  of  the  Anio  tumbling  into  the  pictur- 
esque grotto  of  the  Sirens;  around  a  rugged 
corner,  a  cloud  of  white  spray  whirls  up  contin- 
ually, while  the  boom  of  a" cataract  rumbles 
down  the  glen.  All  these  we  marked  in  the  deep- 
ening dusk,  and  then  hunted  an  albergo. 

The  shrill-voiced  hostess  gave  us  a  good  sup- 
per and  clean  beds;  in  return  we  diverted  the 
people  very  much  by  the  relation  of  our  sulphur 
bath.  We  were  awakened  in  the  night  by  the 
wind  shaking  the  very  soul  out  of  our  loose 
casement.  I  fancied  I  heard  torrents  of  rain 
dashing  against  the  panes,  and  groaned  in  bit- 
terness of  spirit  on  thinking  of  a  Avalk  back  to 
Rome  in  such  weather.  When  morning  came, 
we  found  it  was  only  a  hurricane  of  wind  which 
was  strong  enough  to  tear  off  pieces  of  the  old 


THE  CASCADE  OF  THE  ANfQ.  401 

roofs.  I  saw  some  capuchins  nearly  overturned 
in  crossing  the  square,  by  the  wind  seizing  their 
white  robes. 

I  had  my  fingers  frozen  and  my  eyes  filled  with 
sand  in  trying  to  draw  the  Sybil's  temple,  and 
therefore  left  it  to  join  my  companions,  who  had 
gone  down  into  the  glen  to  see  the  great  cas- 
cade. The  Anio  bursts,  out  of  a  cavern  in  the 
mountain-side,  and  like  a  prisoner  giddy  with 
recovered  liberty,  reels  over  the  precipice  more 
than  two  hundred  feet  deep.  The  bottom  is  hid 
in  a  cloud  of  boiling  spray,  that  shifts  from  side 
to  side,  and  driven  by  the  wind,  sweeps  whistling 
down  the  narrow  pass.  It  stuns  the  ear  with  a 
perpetual  boom,  giving  a  dash  of  grandeur  to 
the  enrapturing  beauty  of  the  scene.  I  tried  a 
foot-path  that  appeared  to  lead  down  to  the 
Cascatelles,  but  after  advancing  some  distance 
along  the  side  of  an  almost  perpendicular  preci- 
pice, I  came  to  a  corner  that  looked  so  danger- 
ous, especially  as  the  wind  was  nearly  strong 
enough  to  carry  me  off,  that  it  seemed  safest  to 
return.  We  made  another  vain  attempt  to  get 
down,  by  creeping  along  the  bed  of  a  torrent, 
filled  with  briars.  The  Cascatelles  are  formed  by 
that  part  of  the  Anio,  which  is  used  in  the  iron 
works,  made  out  of  the  ruins  of  Mecsenas'  villa. 
They  gush  out  from  under  the  ancient  arches, 
and  tumble  more  than  a  hundred  feet  down  the 
precipice,  their  white  waters  gleaming  out  from 
the  dark  and  feathery  foliage.  Not  far  distant 
are  the  remains  of  the  villa  of  Horace. 

We  took  the  road  to  Frnscati,  and  walked  for 
miles  among  cane-swamps  ;m<l  over  plains  cov- 
ered with  sheep.  The  people  w-:»  saw,  were  most 
degraded  and  ferocious-looking,  and  there  were 
m;my  I  would  not  willingly  meet  alone  after 
nightfall.  Indeed  it  is  still  considered  quite  un- 
safe to  venture  without  the  walls  of  Rome,  after 
dark.  The  women,  with  their  yellow  com- 
plexions, and  the  bright  red  blankets  they  wear 


402  VIE  WS  A-FO  O  T. 

folded  around  the  head  and  shoulders,  resemble 
Indian  Squaws. 

I  lately  spent  three  hours  in  the  Museum  of  the 
Capitol,  on  the  summit  of  the  sacred  hill.  In  the 
hall  of  the  Gladiator  I  noticed  an  exqusite  statue 
of  Diana.  There  is  a  pure,  virgin  grace  in  the 
classic  outlines  of  the  figure  that  keeps  the  eye 
long  upon  it.  The  face  is  full  of  cold,  majestic 
dignity,  but  it  is  the  ideal  of  a  being  to  be  wor- 
shipped, rather  than  loved.  The  Faun  of  Praxi- 
teles, in  the  same  room,  is  a  glorious  work ;  it  is 
the  perfect  embodiment  of  that  wild,  merry  race 
the  Grecian  poets  dreamed  of.  One  looks  on  the 
Gladiator  with  a  hushed  breath  and  an  awed 
spirit.  He  is  dying;  the  blood  flows  more  slowly 
from  the  deep  wound  in  his  side ;  his  head  is  sink- 
ing downwards,  and  the  arm  that  supports  his 
body  becomes  more  and  more  nerveless.  You 
feel  that  a  dull  mist  is  coming  over  his  vision, 
and  almost  wait  to  see  his  relaxing  limbs  sink 
suddenly  on  his  shield.  That  the  rude,  barbarian 
form  ha"s  a  soul,  may  be  read  in  his  touchingly 
expressive  countenance.  It  warms  the  sym- 
pathies like  reality  to  look  upon  it.  Yet  how 
many  Romans  may  have  gazed  on  this  work, 
moved  nearly  to  tears,  who  have  seen  hundreds 
perish  in  the' arena  without  a  pitying  emotion! 
Why  is  it  that  Art  has  a  voice  frequently  more 
powerful  than  Nature  ? 

How  cold  it  is  here !  I  was  forced  to  run  home 
to-night,  nearly  at  full  speed,  from  the  Cafe  delle 
Belle  Art i  through  the  Cbrso  and  the  Piazza  Co- 
lonna,  to  keep  warm.  The  clear,  frosty  moon 
threw  the  shadow  of  the  column  of  Antoninus 
over  me  as  I  passed,  and  it  made  me  shiver  to 
look  at  the  thin,  falling  sheet  of  the  fountain. 
Winter  is  winter  everywhere,  and  even  the  sun  of 
Italy  cannot  always  scorch  his  icy  wings. 

Two  days  ago  we  took  a  ramble  outside  the 
walls.  Passing  the  Coliseum  and  Caracalla's 
Baths,  we  reached  the  tomb  of  Scipio,  a  small 


GROTTO  OF  EGERIA.  403 

sepulchral  vault,  near  the  roadside.  The  ashes 
of  the  warrior  were  scattered  to  the  winds  long 
ago,  and  his  mausoleum  is  fast  falling  to  decay, 
The  old  arch  over  the  Appian  way  is  still  stand- 
ing, near  the  modern  PortBj  San  Sebastiano 
through  which  we  entered  on  the  far-famed  road. 
Here  and  there  it  is  quite  entire,  and  we  walked 
over  the  stones  once  worn  by  the  feet  of  Virgil 
and  Horace  and  Cicero.  After  passing  the  tem- 
ple of  Romulus — a  shapeless  and  ivy-grown  ruin 
— and  walking  a  mile  or  more  beyond  the  walls, 
we  reached  the  Circus  of  Caracalla,  whose  long 
and  shattered  walls  fill  the  hollow  of  one  of  the 
little  dells  of  the  Campagna.  The  original 
structure  must  have  been  of  great  size  and 
splendor,  but  those  twin  Vandals — Time  and 
Avarice — have  stripped  away  everything  but  the 
lofty  brick  masses,  whose  nakedness  the  pitying 
ivy  strives  to  cover. 

Further,  on  a  gentle  slope,  is  the  tomb  of  "the 
wealthiest  Roman's  wife,''  familiar  to  every  one 
through  Childe Harold's  musings.  It  is  a  round, 
massive  tower,  faced  with  large  blocks  of  mar- 
ble, and  still  bearing  the  name  of  Cecilia  Metella. 
One  side  is  much  ruined,  and  the  top  is  over- 
grown with  grass  and  wild  bushes.  The  wall  is 
about  thirty  feet  thick,  so  that  but  a  small 
round  space  is  left  in  the  interior,  which  is  open 
to  the  rain  and  filled  with  rubbish.  The  echoes 
pronounced  hollowly  after  us  the  name  of  the 
dead  for  whom  it  was  built,  but  they  could  tell 
us  nothing  of  her  life's  history — 

"  How  lived,  how  loved,  how  died  she?" 

I  made  a  hurried  drawing  of  it,  and  we  then 
turned  to  the  left,  across  the  Caiiii>n,'j;im,  to  seek 
the  grotto  of  Egeria.  Before  us,  across  the 
brown  plain,  extended  the  Sabine  Mountains ;  in 
the  clear  air  the  houses  of  Tivoli,  twenty  miles 
distant,  were  plainly  visible.  The  giant  aque- 


404  riEWS   A- FOOT. 

duct  stretched  in  a  long  line  across  the  Cam- 
pagna  to  the  mountain  of  Albano,  its  broken 
and  disjointed  arches  resembling  the  vertebra? 
of  some  mighty  monster.  With  the  ruins  of 
temples  and  tombs  strewing  the  plain  for  miles 
around  it,  it  might  be  called  the  spine  to  the 
skeleton  of  Rome. 

We  passed  many  ruins,  made  beautiful  by  the 
clinging  ivy,  and  reached  a  solemn  grove  of  ever- 
green oak,  overlooking  a  secluded  valley.  I  was 
soon  in  the  meadow,  leaping  ditches,  rustling 
through  cane-brakes,  and  climbing  up  to  mossy 
arches  to  find  out  the  fountain  of  Numa's 
nymph;  while  my  companion,  who  had  less  taste 
for  the  romantic,  looked  on  complacently  from 
the  leeward  side  of  the  hill.  At  length  we  found 
an  arched  vault  in  the  hill-side  overhung  with 
wild  vines,  and  shaded  in  summer  by  umbra- 
geous trees  that  grow  on  the  soil  above.  At  the 
further  end  a  stream  of  water  gushed  out  from 
beneath  a  broken  statue,  and  an  aperture  in  the 
wall  revealed  a  dark  cavern  behind.  This,  then, 
was  "  Egeria's  grot . "  The  ground  was  trampled 
by  the  feet  of  cattle,  and  the  taste  of  the  water 
was  anything  but  pleasant.  But  it  was  not  for 
Numa  and  his  nymph  alone,  that  I  sought  it  so 
ardently.  The  sunbeam  of  another  mind  linger? 
on  the  spot.  See  how  it  gilds  the  ruined  and 
neglected  fount ! 

M  The  mosses  of  thy  fountain  still  are  sprinkled 

With  thine  Elysian  water-drops,  the  face 
Of  thy  cave-guarded  spring,  with  years  unwrinkled, 

Reflects  the  meek-eyed  genius  of  the  place, 
Whose  wild,  green  margin,  now  no  more  erase 

Art's  works;  no  more  its  sparkling  waters  sleep, 
Prisoned  in  marble;  bubbling  from  the  base 

Of  the  cleft  statue,  with  a  gentle  leap, 
The  rill  runs  o'er,  and  'round,  fern,  flowers  and  ivy  creep, 

Fantastically  tangled." 

I  tried  to  creep  into  the  grotto,  but  it  was  un- 
pleasantly dark,  and  no  nymph  appeared  to 


SERVICE  IN  ST.  PETER'S.  40S 

chase  away  the  shadow  with  her  lustrous  eyes. 
The  whole  hill  is  pierced  by  subterranean  cham- 
bers and  passages. 

I  spent  an  other  Sunday  morning  in  St.  Peter's. 
High  mass  was  being  celebrated  in  one  of  the 
side  Chapels,  and  a  great  number  of  the  priest- 
hood were  present.  The  music  was  simple,  sol- 
emn, and  very  impressive,  and  a  fine  effect  waa 
produced  by  the  combination  of  the  full,  sono- 
rous voices  of  the  priests,  and  the  divine  sweet- 
ness of  that  band  of  mutilated  unfortunates, 
who  sing  here.  They  sang  with  a  full,  clear  tone, 
sweet  as  the  first  lispings  of  a  child,  but  it  Was 
painful  to  hear  that  melody,  purchased  at  the 
expense  of  manhood. 

Near  the  dome  is  a  bronze  statue,  of  St.  Peter, 
which  seems  to  have  a  peculiar  atmosphere  of 
sanctity.  People  say  their  prayers  before  it  by 
hundreds,  and  then  kiss  its  toe,  which  is  nearlj 
worn  away  by  the  application  of  so  many  thou- 
sand lips.  I  saw  a  crowd  struggle  most  irrever- 
ently to  pay  their  devotion  to  it.  There  was  a 
great  deal  of  jostling  and  confusion;  some  went 
so  far  as  to  thrust  the  faces  of  others  against 
the  toe  as  they  were  about  to  kiss  it.  What  is 
more  remarkable,  it  is  an  antique  statue  of  Ju- 
piter, taken,  I  believe,  from  the  Pantheon.  An 
English  artist,  showing  it  to  a  friend,  just  ar- 
rived in  Rome,  remarked  very  wittily  that  it  was 
the  statue  of  Jew-Peter. 

I  went  afterwards  to  the  Villa  Borghese,  out- 
side the  Porta  del  Popolo.  The  gardens  occupy 
thirty  or  forty  acres,  and  are  always  thronged 
in  the  afternoon  with  the  carriages  of  the  Roman 
and  foreign  nobility.  In  summer,  it  must  be  a 
heavenly  place;  even  now,  with  its  musical  fount- 
ains, long  avenues,  and  grassy  slopes,  crowned 
with  the  fan-like  branches  of  the  Italian  pine,  it 
reminds  one  of  the  fairy  landscapes  of  Boccaccio. 
We  threaded  our  way  through  the  press  of  car- 
riages on  the  Pincian  hill,  and  saw  the  enormous 


406  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

bulk  of  St.  Peter's  loom  up  against  the  sunset 
.wky.  I  counted  forty  domes  and  spires  in  that 
part  of  Rome  that  lay  below  us — but  on  what  a 
marble  glory  look  d  that  sun  eighteen  centuries 
ago !  Modern  Rome — it  is  in  comparison,  a  den 
of  filth,  cheats  and  beggars  1 

Yesterday,  while  taking  a  random  stroll 
through  the  city,  I  visited  the  church  of  St.  Ono- 
frio,  where  Tasso  is  buried.  It  is  not  far  from 
St.  Peter's,  on  the  summit  of  a  lonely  hill.  The 
building  was  closed,  but  an  old  monk  admitted 
us  on  application.  The  interior  is  quite  small, 
but  very  old,  and  the  floor  is  covered  with  the 
tombs  of  princes  and  prelates  of  a  past  century. 
Near  the  end  I  found  a  small  slab  with  the  in- 
scription: 

"TORQUATI  TASSI 

OSSA 
HIC  JACENT." 

That  was  all— but  what  m  ore  was  needed  ?  Who 
knows  not  the  name  and  fame  and  sufferings  of 
the  glorious  bard?  The  pomp  of  gold  and 
marble  are  not  needed  to  deck  the  slumber  of 
genius.  On  the  wall,  above,  hangs  an  old  and 
authentic  portrait  of  him,  very  similar  to  the 
engravings  in  circulation.  A  crown  of  laurel  en- 
circles the  lofty  brow,  and  the  eye  has  that  wild, 
mournful  expression,  which  accords  so  well  with 
the  mysterious  tale  of  his  love  and  madness. 

Owing  to  the  mountain  storms,  which  im- 
posed on  us  the  expense  of  a  carriage-journey  to 
Rome,  we  shall  be  prevented  from  going  further. 
One  great  cause  of  this  is  the  heavy  fee  required 
for  passports  in  Italy.  In  most  of  the  Italian 
cities,  the  cost  of  the  different  vises  amounts  to 
$4  or  $5 ;  a  few  such  visits  as  these  reduce  our 
rands  very  materially.  The  American  Consul's 
fee  is  $2,  owing  to  the  illiberal  course  of  our 
government,  in  withholding  all  salary  from  he; 


TffJS  AMERICAN  CONSUL.  4W 

Consuls  in  Europe.  Mr.  Brown,  however,  in 
whose  family  we  spent  last  evening  very  pleas-, 
aaitly,  on  our  requesting  that  he  would  deduct 
something  from  the  usual  fee,  kindly  declined 
accepting  anything.  We  felt  this  kindness  the 
more,  as  from  the  character  which  some  of  our 
late  Consuls  bear  in  Italy,  we  had  not  antic- 
ipated it.  We  shall  remember  him  with  deeper 
gratitude  than  many  would  suppose,  who  have 
never  known  what  it  was  to  be  a  foreigner. 

To-morrow,  therefore,  we  leave  Rome — here  is, 
at  last,  the  limit  of  our  wanderings.  We  have 
spent  much  toil  and  privation  to  reach  here,  and 
now,  after  two  weeks'  rambling  and  musing 
among  the  mighty  relics  of  past  glory,  we  turn 
our  faces  homeward.  The  thrilling  hope  I 
cherished  during  the  whole  pilgrimage — to  climb 
Parnassus  and  drink  from  Castaly,  under  the 
blue  heaven  of  Greece  (both  far  easier  than  the 
steep  hill  and  hidden  fount  of  poesy,  I  worship 
afar  off) — to  sigh  for  fallen  art,  beneath  the 
broken  friezes  of  the  Parthenon,  and  look  with  a 
pilgrim's  eye  on  the  isles  of  Homer  and  of  Sap- 
pho— must  be  given  up,  unwillingly  and  sorrow- 
fully though  it  be.  These  glorious  anticipations 
— among  the  brightest  that  blessed  my  boyhood 
— are  slowly  wrung  from  me  by  stern  necessity. 
Even  Naples,  the  lovely  Parthenope,  wrherethe 
Mantuan  bard  sleeps  on  the  sunny  shore,  by  the 
bluest  of  summer-  seas,  with  the  disinterred 
Pompeii  beyond,  find  Paestum  amid  its  roses  on 
the  lonely  Calabrian  plain — even  this,  almost 
within  sigh tof  the  cross  of  St.  Peter's,  is  barred 
n-om  me.  Farewell  then,  clime  of  "fame  and  eld," 
since  it  must  be !  A  pilgrim's  blessing  for  the 
lore  ye  have  taught  him  1 


408  VJXH't  -I  1-OOT. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

Palo. — The  sea  is  breaking  the  long  swells 
below  the  window,  and  a  glorious  planet  shines 
in  the  place  of  the  sunset  that  has  died  away. 
This  is  our  first  resting-place  since  leaving 
Rome.  We  have  been  walking  all  day  over  the 
bare  and  dreary  Campagna,  and  it  is  a  relief  to 
look  at  last  on  the  broad,  blue  expanse  of  the 
Tyrrhene  Sea. 

"When  we  emerged  from  the  cool  alleys  of 
Rome,  and  began  to  climb  up  and  down  the 
long,  barren  swells,  the  sun  beat  down  on  us 
with  an  almost  summer  heat.  On  crossing  a 
ridge  near  Castel  Guido,  we  took  our  last  look 
of  Home,  and  saw  from  the  other  side  the  sun- 
shine lying  like  a  dazzling  belt  on  the  far  Med- 
iterranean. The  country  is  one  of  the  most 
wretched  that  can  be  imagined.  Miles  and  miles 
of  uncultivated  land,  with  scarcely  a  single  habi- 
tation, extend  on  either  side  of  the  road,  and  the 
few  shepherds  who  watch  their  flocks  in  the 
marshy  hollows,  look  wild  and  savage  enough 
for  any  kind  of  crime.  It  made  me  shudder  to 
see  every  face  bearing  such  a  villainous  stamp. 

Civita  Vecchia,  Jan.  11. — We  left  Palo  just 
after  sunrise,  and  walked  in  the  cool  of  the 
morning  beside  the  blue  Mediterranean.  On  the 
right,  the  low  outposts  of  the  Apennines  rose, 
bleak  and  brown,  the  narrow  plain  between  them 
and  the  shore  resembling  a  desert,  so  destitute 
was  it  of  the  signs  of  civilized  life.  A  low,  white 
cloud  that  hung  over  the  sea,  afar  off,  showed 
us  the  locality  of  Sardinia,  though  the  land  was 
not  visible.  The  sun  shone  down  warmly,  and 
with  the  blue  sky  and  bluer  sea  we  could  easily 
bave  imagined  a  milder  season.  The  barren 


SHORE  OF  THE  MEDITERRANEAN.      409 

scenery  took  a  new  interest  in  my  eyes,  when  I 
remembered  that  I  -was  spending  amidst  it  that 
birth-day  which  removes  me,  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world,  from  dependent  youth  to  responsible 
manhood. 

In  the  afternoon  we  found  a  beautiful  cove  in  a 
curve  of  the  shore,  and  went  to  bathe  in  the  cold 
surf.  It  was  very  refreshing,  but  not  quite 
equal  to  the  sulphur-bath  on  the  road  to  Tivoli. 
The  mountains  now  ran  closer  to  the  sea,  and 
the  road  was  bordered  with  thickets  of  myrtle. 
I  stopped  often  to  beat  my  staff  into  the  bushes, 
and  inhale  the  fragrance  that  arose  from  their 
crushed  leaves.  The  hills  were  covered  with  this 
poetical  shrub,  and  any  acre  of  the  ground 
would  make  the  fortune  of  a  florist  at  home. 

The  sun  was  sinking  in  a  sky  of  orange  and 
rose,  as  Civita  Vecchia  came  in  sight  on  a  long 
headland  before  us.  Beyond  the  sea  stretched 
the  dim  hills  of  Corsica.  We  walked  nearly  an 
hour  in  the  clear  moonlight,  by  the  sounding 
shore,  before  the  gate  of  the  city  was  reached. 
Wo  have  found  a  tolerable  inn,  and  are  now 
enjoying'  the  pleasures  of  supper  and  rest. 

Marseille's,  Jan.  16. — At  length  we  tread  the 
shore  of  France — of  sunny  Provence — the  last 
uu  visited  realm  we  have  to  roam  through  before 
returning  home.  It  is  with  a  feeling  of  more 
than  common  relief  that  we  see  around  us  the 
lively  faces  and  hear  the  glib  tongues  of  the 
French.  It  is  like  an  earnest  that  the  "rough- 
ing" we  have  undergone  among  Bohemian  boors 
and  Italian  savages  is  well  nigh  finished,  and 
that,  henceforth,  we  shall  find  civilized  sympathy 
an  i  politeness,  if  nothing  more,  to  make  the  way 
smoother.  Perhaps  the  three  woful  days  which 
ten 1 1 i lu i tod  at  hal f-j >a st  two  y« -s f  enl ay  afternoon, 
as  we  passed  through  the  narrow  strait  into  the 
beautiful  harbor  which  Marseilles  encloses  in  her 
sheltering  heart,  make  it  still  pleasanter.  Now, 
while  there  is  time,  I  must  describe  those  three 


410  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

days,  tor  who  could  write  on  the  wet  deck  of  a 
steamboat,  amid  all  the  sights  aad  smells  which 
a  sea  voyage  creates?  Description  does  not 
flourish  when  the  bones  are  sore  with  lying  on 
planks,  and  the  body  shivering  like  an  aspen  lea/ 
with  cold. 

About  the  old  town  of  Civita  Vecchia  there  is 
not  much  to  be  said,  except  that  it  has  the  same 
little  harbor  which  Trajan  dug  for  it,  and  is  as 
dirty  and  disagreeable  as  a  town  can  well  be. 
We  saw  nothing  except  a  little  church,  and  the 
prison-yard,  full  of  criminals,  where  the  celebrated 
bandit,  Gasparoni,  has  been  now  confined  for 
eight  years. 

The  Neapolitan  Company's  boat  Mongibello^ 
was  advertised  to  leave  the  12th,  so  after 
procuring  our  passports,  we  went  to  the  office 
to  take  passage.  The  official,  however,  refused 
to  give  us  tickets  for  the  third  place,  because*, 
forsooth,  we  were  not  servants  or  common 
laborers!  and  words  were  wasted  in  trying  to 
convince  him  that  it  would  make  no  difference. 
As  the  second  cabin  fare  was  nearly  three  times 
as  high,  and  entirely  too  dear  for  us,  we  went  to 
the  office  of  the  Tuscan  Company,  whose  boat 
was  to  leave  in  two  days.  Through  the  influence 
of  an  Italian  gentleman,  secretary  to  Bartolini, 
the  American  Consul,  whom  we  met,  they  agreed 
to  take  us  for  forty-five  francs,  on  deck,  the 
price  of  the  Neapolitan  boat  being  thirty. 

Rather  than  stay  two  days  longer  in^the  dull 
town,  we  went  again  to  the  latter  Company's 
office  and  offered  them  forty-five  francs  to  go 
that  day  in  their  boat.  This  removed  the  for- 
mer scruples,  and  tickets  were  immediately  mad* 
out.  After  a  plentiful  dinner  at  the  albergo,  to 
prepare  ourselves  for  the  exposure,  we  filled  our 
pockets  with  a  supply  of  bread,  cheese,  and  figs, 
for  the  voyage.  We  then  engaged  a  boatman, 
who  agreed  to  row  us  out  to  the  steamer  for  two 
pauls,  out  after  he  had  us  on  board  and  an  oar'f 


WITH  A  BOATMAN.  41t 

length  from  the  quay,  he  said  two  pauls  apiec* 
was  his  bargain.  I  instantly  refused,  and,  sum- 
moning the  best  Italian  I  could  command,  ex- 
plained our  agreement;  but  he  still  persisted  in 
demanding  double  price.  The  dispute  soon  drew 
a  number  of  persons  to  the  quay,  some  of  whom, 
being  boatmen,  sided  with  him.  Finding  he  had 
us  safe  in  his  boat,  his  manner  was  exceedingly 
calm  and  polite.  He  contradicted  me  with  a 
"pardon,  Signore!"  accompanying  the  words 
with  a  low  bow  and  a  graceful  lift  of  his  scarlet 
cap,  and  replied  to  my  indignant  accusations  in 
the  softest  and  most  silvery-modulated  Roman 
sentences.  I  found,  at  last,  that  if  I  was  in  the 
right,  I  cut  the  wrorse  figure  of  the  two,  and, 
therefore,  put  an  end  to  the  dispute  by  desiring 
him  to  row  on  at  his  own  price. 

The  hour  of  starting  was  two,  but  the  boat 
lay  quietly  in  the  harbor  till  four,  when  we  glided 
out  on  the  open  sea,  and  went  northward, 
with  the  blue  hills  of  Corsica  far  on  our  left.  A 
gorgeous  sunset  faded  away  over  the  water,  and 
the  moon  rose  behind  the  low  mountains  of  the 
Italian  coast.  Having  found  a  warm  and  shel- 
tered place  near  the  chimney,  I  drew  my  beaver 
further  over  my  eyes,  to  keep  out  the  moonlight, 
and  lay  down  on  the  deck  with  my  knapsack 
under  my  head.  It  was  a  hard  bed,  indeed ;  and 
the  first  time  I  attempted  to  rise,  I  found  myself 
glued  to  the  floor  by  the  pitch  which  was  smeared 
along  the  seams  of  the  boards!  Our  fellow- 
sufferers  were  a  company  of  Swiss  soldiers  going 
home  after  a  four  years'  service  under  the  King 
of  Naples,  but  they  took  to  their  situation  more 
easily  than  we. 

Sleep  was  next  to  impossible,  so  I  paced  the 
deck  occasionally  looking  out  on  the  moonlit 
sea  and  the  dim  shores  on  either  side.  A  little 
after  midnight  we  passed  between  Elba  and 
Corsica.  The  dark  crags  of  Elba  rose  on  our 
right,  and  the  bold  headlands  of  Napoleon's  i 


412  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

stood  opposite,  at  perhaps  twenty  mileb 
tance.  ^There  was  something  dreary  and  mys- 
terious in  the  whole  scene,  viewed  at  such  a  time 
— the  grandeur  of  his  career,  who  was  born  on 
one  and  exiled  to  the  other,  gave  it  a  strange 
and  thrilling  interest. 

We  made  the  light-house  before  the  harbor  ot 
Leghorn  at  dawn,  and  by  sunrise  were  anchored 
within  the^mole.    I  sat  on  the  deck  the  whole 
day,  watching  the  picturesque  vessels  that  skim- 
med  about  with  their  lateen  sails,  and  wonder- 
ing how  soon  the  sailors,  on  the  deck  of  a  Bos- 
ton brig  anchored  near  us,  would  see  my  distant 
country.    Leaving  at  four  o'clock,    we  dashed 
away,  along  the  mountain  coast  of  Carrara,  at  a 
rapid  rate.    The  wind  was  strong  and  cold,  but 
I  lay  down  behind  the  boiler,  and  though  the 
boards  were  as  hard  as  ever,  slept  two  or  three 
hours.    When  I  awoke  at  half-past  two  in  the 
morning,  after  a  short  rest,  Genoa  was  close  at 
hand.     We  gilded  between   the   two  revolving 
lights  on  the  mole,  into  the  harbor,   with  the 
amphitheatre  on  which  the  superb  city  sits,  dark 
and  silent  around  us.    It  began  raining  soon, 
the  engine-fire  sank  down,  and  as  there  was  no 
place  of  shelter,  we  were  shortly  wet  to  the  skin. 
How  long  those  dreary  hours  seemed,  till  the 
dawn  came !    All  was  cold  and  rainy  and  dark, 
and  we  waited  in  a  kind  of  torpid  misery  for  day- 
light.   The  entire  day,  I  passed  sitting  in  a  coil 
of  rope  under  the  stern  of  the  cabin,  and  even 
the  beauties  of  the  glorious  city  scarce  affected 
me.    AVe  lay  opposite  the  Doria  palace,  and  the 
constellation  of  villas  and  towers  still  glittered 
along  the  hills ;  but  who,  with  his  teeth  chatter- 
ing  and  limbs  numb  and  damp,  could  feel  pleas- 
ure  in  looking  on  Elysium  itself? 

We  got  under  way  again  at  three  o'clock, 
The  ram  very  soon  hid  the  coast  from  view,  and 
the  waves  pitched  our  boat  about  in  a  mannei 
not  at  all  pleasant.  I  soon  experienced  sea- 


A  SATLOR'S  srMPATtilf.  413 

sickness  in  all  its  horrors.  We  had  accidentally 
made  the  acquaintance  of  one  of  the  Neapolitan 
sailors,  who  had  been  in  America.  He  was  one 
of  those  rough,  honest  natures  I  like  to  meet 
with — their  blunt  kindness,  is  better  than  re- 
fined and  oily-tongued  suavity.  As  we  were 
standing  by  the  chimney,  reflecting  dolefully 
how  we  should  pass  the  coming  night,  he  came 
up  and  said :  "I  am  in  trouble  about  you,  poor 
fellows!  I  don't  think  I  shall  sleep  three  hours 
to-night,  to  think  of  you.  I  shall  tell  all  th« 
cabin  they  shall  give  you  beds,  because  they 
shall  see  you  are  gentlemen !"  Whether  he  did 
so  or  the  officers  were  moved  by  spontaneous 
commiseration,  we  knew  not,  but  in  half  an 
hour  a  servant  beckoned  us  into  the  cabin, 
and  berths  Avere  given  us. 

I  turned  in  with  a  feeling  of  relief  not  easily 
imagined,  and  forgave  the  fleas  willingly,  in  the 
comfort  of  a  shelter  from  the  storm.  When  I 
awoke,  it  Avas  broad  day.  A  fresh  breeze  Avas 
drying  the  deck,  and  the  sun  was  half-A7isible 
among  breaking  clouds.  We  had  just  passed 
the  Isle  of  the  Titan,  one  of  the  Isles  des  Hydros, 
and  the  bay  of  Toulon  opened  on  our  right. 
It  Avas  a  rugged,  rocky  coast,  but  the  hills  of 
sunny  Provence  rose  beyond.  The  sailor  came 
up  Avith  a  smile  of  satisfaction  on  his  rough 
countenance,  and  said:  "You  did  sleep  better, 
I  think ;  I  did  tell  them  all !  "  coupling  his  asser- 
tion with  a  round  curse  on  the  officers. 

We  ran  along,  beside  the  broAvn,  bare  crags 
till  nearly  noon,  AArhen  Ave  reached  the  eastern 
point  of  the  Bay  of  Marseilles.  A  group  of 
small  islands,  formed  of  bare  rocks,  rising  in 
precipices  three  or  four  hundred  feet  high,  guards 
the  point ;  on  turning  into  the  Gulf,  Ave  saAv  on 
the  left  the  rooky  islands  of  Pomegues,  and  If, 
with  the  castle  crowning  the  latter,  in  Avhich 
Mirabeau  Avas  confined.  The  ranges  of  hills 
which  rose  around  the  great  bay,  were  spotted 


114  VIEWS  A-P60T. 

•*?d  sprinkled  over  with  thousands  of  the  conn, 
try  cottages  of  the  Marseilles  merchants,  called 
Baxtides;  the  city  itself  was  hidden  from  view. 
We  saw  apparently  the  whole  bay,  but  there  was 
no  crowd  of  vessels,  such  as  would  befit  a  great 
sea-port ;  a  few  spires  peeping  over  a  hill,  with 
some  fortifications,  were  all  that  was  visible.  At 
length  we  turned  suddenly  aside  and  entered  a 
narrow  strait,  between  two  forts.  Immediately 
a  broad  harbor  opened  before  us,  locked  in  th'o 
very  heart  of  the  hills  on  which  the  city  stands. 
It  was  covered  with  vessels  of  all  nations;  on 
leaving  the  boat,  we  rowed  past  the  "Aristides," 
bearing  the  blue  cross  of  Greece,  and  I  searched 
eagerly  and  found,  amon^  the  crowded  masts, 
the  starry  banner  of  America. 

I  have  rambled  through  all  the  principal  parti 
of  Marseilles,  and  am  very  favorably  impressed 
with  its  appearance.  Its  cleanliness  and  the  air 
of  life  and  business  which  marks  the  streets,  an) 
the  more  pleasant  after  coming  from  the  dirty 
and  depopulated  Italian  cities.  The.  broacl 
avenues,  lined  with  trees,  which  traverse  its 
whole  length,  must  be  delightful  in  summer.  [ 
am  often  reminded,  by  its  spacious  and  crowded 
thoroughfares,  of  our  American  cities.  Although 
founded  by  the  Phoceans,  three  thousand  years 
ago,  it  has  scarcely  an  edifice  of  greater  antiq- 
uity than  three  or  four  centuries,  and  the  tour- 
ist must  content  himself  with  wandering  through 
the  narrow  streets  of  the  old  town,  observing 
the  Provencal  costumes,  or  strolling  among 
Turks  and  Moors  on  the  Quai  tf  Orleans. 

We  have  been  detained  here  a  day  longer  than 
was  necessary,  owing  to  some  misunderstanding 
about  the  passports.  This  has  not  been  favor- 
able to  our  reduced  circumstances,  for  we  have 
now  but  twenty  francs  each,  left,  to  take  us  to 
Paris.  Our  boots,  too,  after  serving  us  so  long, 
begin  to  show  signs  of  failing  in  this  hour  of  ad- 
Tersity.  Although  we  are  somewhat  accustomed 


RAINT  PR  O  VENCR.  411 

to  such  circumstances,  I  cannot  help  shrinking 
when  I  think  of  the  solitary  napoleon  and  the 
five  hundred  miles  to  be  passed.  Perhaps,  how- 
ever, the  coin  will  do  as  much  as  its  great  name- 
sake, and  achieve  for  us  a  Marengo  in  the  war 
with  fate. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

PILGRIMAGE  TO  VAUCLUSE  AND  JOUENEY  UP  THE 
EHOTE. 

We  left  Marseilles  about  nine  o'clock,  on  a  dull, 
rainy  morning,  for  Avignon  and  the  Rhone,  in- 
tending to  take  in  our  way  the  glen  of  Vaucluse. 
The  dirty  faubourgs  .stretch  out  along  the  road 
for  a  great  distance,  and  we  trudged  through 
them,  past  foundries,  furnaces  and  manufact- 
ories, considerably  disheartened  with  the  pros- 
pect. We  wound  among  the  bleak  stony  hills, 
continually  ascending,  for  nearly  three  hours. 
(Jivat  numbers  of  cabarets,  frequented  by  the 
common  people,  lined  the  roads,  and  we  met 
continually  trains  of  heavily  laden  wagons, 
drawn  by  large  mules.  The  country  is  very  wild 
and  barren,  and  wrould  have  been  tiresome,  ex- 
cept for  the  pine  groves  with  their  beautiful  green 
foliage.  We  got  something  to  eat  with  difficulty 
at  an  inn,  for  the  people  spoke  nothing  but  the 
Provencal  dialect,  and  the  place  was  so  cold  and 
cheerless  we  were  glad  to  go  out  again  into  the 
storm.  It  mattered  little  to  us,  that  we  heard 
the  language  in  which  the  gay  troubadours  of 
king  Ren-'  snug  their  songs  of  love.  We  thought 
more  of  our  dripping  clothes  and  numb,  cold 


416  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

limbs,  and  would  have  been  glad  to  hear  instead, 
the  strong,  hearty  German  tongue,  full  of 
warmth  and  kindly  sympathy  for  the  stranger. 
The  wind  swept  drearily  among  the  hills;  black, 
gusty  clouds  covered  the  sky,  and  the  incessant 
rain  filled  the  road  with  muddy  pools.  \V<> 
looked  at  the  country  chateaux,  so  comfortable 
in  the  midst  of  their  sheltering  poplars,  with  a 
Bigh,and  thought  of  homes  afar  off,  whose  doors 
were  never  closed  to  us. 

This  was  all  forgotten,  when  we  reached  Aix, 
and  the  hostess  of  the  Cafe  d'  Afrique  filled  her 
little  stove  with  fresh  coal,  and  hung  our  wet 
garments  around  it,  while  her  daughter,  a  pale- 
faced,  crippled  child,  smiled  kindly  on  us  and 
tried  to  talk  with  us  in  French.  Putting  on  our 

damp,  heavy  coats  again,  B and  I  rambled 

through  the  streets,  while  our  frugal  supper  was 
preparing.  We  saw  the  statue  of  the  Bon  Roi 
Jtene,  who  held  at  Aix  his  court  of  shepherds  and 
troubadours — the  dark  Cathedral  of  St.  Saveur 
— the  ancient  walls  and  battlements,  and  gazed 
down  the  valley  at  the  dark,  precipitous  mass 
of  Mont  St.  Victor,  at  whose  base  Marius  ob- 
tained a  splendid  victory  over  the  barbarians. 

After  leaving  next  morning,  we  saw  at  some 
distance  to  the  south,  the  enormous  aqueduct 
now  being  erected  for  the  canal  from  the  Rhone 
to  Marseilles.  The  shallow,  elevated  valleys  we 
passed  in  the  forenoon's  walk  were  stony  and 
Darren,  but  covered  with  large  orchards  of  al- 
mond trees,  the  fruit  of  which  forms  a  consider- 
able article  of  export.  This  district  borders  on 
the  desert  of  the  Crau,  a  vast  plain  of  stones, 
reaching  to  the  mouth  of  the  Rhone  and  almost 
entirely  uninhabited.  We  caught  occasional 
glimpses  of  its  sea-like  waste,  between  the  sum- 
mits of  the  hills.  At  length,  after  threading  a 
high  ascent,  we  saw  the  valley  of  the  Durance 
suddenly  below  us.  The  sun,  breaking  through 
the  clouds,  shone  on  the  mountain  wall,  which 


RECRUITS  FOR  ALGIERS.  417 

stood  on  the  opposite  side,  touching  with  his 
glow  the  bare  and  rocky  precipices  that  frowned 
far  above  the  stream.  Descending  to  the  valley, 
we  followed  its  course  towards  the  Rhone,  with 
the  ruins  of  feudal  bourgs  crowning  the  cragf 
above  us. 

It  was  dusk,  when  we  reached  the  village  of  Se- 
nas, tired  with  the  day's  march.  A  landlord, 
standing  in  his  door,  on  the  lookout  for  cus- 
tomers, invited  us  to  enter,  in  a  manner  so  polite 
and  pressing,  we  could  not  choose  but  to  do  so. 
This  is  a  universal  custom  with  the  country  inn- 
keepers. In  a  little  village  which  we  passed  to- 
wards evening,  there  was  a  tavern,  with  the 
sign:  "  The  Mother  of  Soldiers."  A  portly 
woman,  whose  face  beamed  with  kindness  and 
cheerfulness,  stood  in  the  door  and  invited  us  to 
stop  there  for  the  night.  "No,  mother!"  I  an- 
swered; "we  must  go  much  further  to-day." 
"Go,  then,"  said  she,  "with  good  luck,  my  chil- 
dren !  a  pleasant  journey ! "  On  entering  the  inn 
at  Senas,  two  or  three  bronzed  soldiers  were  sit- 
ting by  the  table.  My  French  vocabulary  hap- 
pening to  give  out  in  the  middle  of  a  consulta- 
tion about  eggs  and  onion-soup,  one  of  them 
came  to  my  assistance  and  addressed  me  in 
German.  He  was  from  Fulda,  in  Hesse  Cassel, 
and  had  served  fifteen  years  in  Africa.  Two 
other  young  soldiers,  from  the  western  border 
of  Germany,  came  during  the  evening,  and  one 
of  them  being  partly  intoxicated,  created  such  a 
tumult,  that  a  quarrel  arose,  which  ended  in  his 
being  beaten  and  turned  out  of  the  house. 

We  met,  every  day,  large  numbers  of  recruits 
in  companies  of  one  or  two  hundred,  on  their 
way  to  Marseilles  to  embark  for  Algiers.  They 
were  mostly  youths,  from  sixteen  to  twenty 
years  of  age,  and  seemed  little  to  forebode  their 
probable  fate.  In  looking  on  their  fresh,  healthy 
faces  and  bounding  forms.  I  saw  also  a  dim  and 
ghastly  vision  of  bones  whitening  on  the  desert, 


41 1  VIEWS   A -FOOT. 

of  men  perishing  with  heat  and  fever,  or  stricken 
down  by  the  aim  of  the  savage  Bedouin. 

Leaving  next  morning  at  day-break,  we  walked 
on  before  breakfast  toOrgon,  a  little  village  in  a 
corner  of  the  cliffs  which  border  the  Durance, 
and  crossed  the  muddy  river  by  a  suspension 
bridge  a  short  distance  below,  to  Cavaillon, 
where  the  country  people  were  holding  a  great 
market.  From  this  place  a  road  led  across  the 
meadow-land  to  L'Isle,  six  miles  distant.  This 
little  town  is  so  named,  because  it  is  situated  on 
an  island  formed  by  the  crystal  Sorgues,  which 
flows  from  the  fountains  of  Vaucluse.  It  is  a 
very  picturesque  and  pretty  place.  Great  mill- 
wheels,  turning  slowly  and  constantly,  stand  at 
intervals  in  the  stream,  whose  grassy  banks  are 
now  as  green  as  in  spring-time.  We  walked 
along  the  Sorgues,  which  is  quite  as  beautiful 
and  worthy  to  be  sung  as  the  Clitumnus,  to  the 
end  of  the  village,  to  take  the  road  to  Yaucluse. 
Beside  its  banks  stands  a  dirty,  modern  "  Hotel 
de  Petrarque  et  Laure."  Alas,  that  the  names 
of  the  most  romantic  and  impassioned  lovers 
of  all  history  should  be  desecrated  to  a  sign-post 
to  allure  gormandizing  tourists ! 

The  bare  mountain  in  whose  heart  lies  the 
poet's  solitude,  now  rose  before  us,  at  the  foot 
of  the  lofty  Mount  Ventoux,  whose  summit  of 
snows  extended  beyond.  We  left  the  river,  and 
walked  over  a  barren  plain,  across  which  the 
wind  blew  most  drearily.  The  sky  was  rainy 
and  dark,  and  completed  the  desolateness  of  the 
scene,  which  in  no  wise  heightened  our  anticipa- 
tions of  the  renowned  glen.  At  length  we  re- 
joined the  Sorgues  and  entered  a  little  green  val- 
ley running  up  into  the  mountain.  The  narrow- 
ness of  the  entrance  entirely  shut  out  the  wind, 
and  except  the  rolling  of  the  waters  over  their 
pebbly  bed,  all  was  still  and  lonely  and  beautiful. 
The  sides  of  the  dell  were  covered  with  olive 
trees,  and  a  narrow  strip  of  emerald  meadow 


APPROACH  TO  VAUCLUSE.  419 

lay  at  the  bottom.  It  grew  more  hidden  and  se- 
questered as  we  approached  the  little  village  of 
Vaucluse.  Here,  the  mountain  towers  far  above, 
and  precipices  of  gray  rock,  many  hundred  feet 
high,  hang  over  the  narrowing  glen.  On  a  crag 
over  the  village  are  the  remains  of  a  castle ;  the 
slope  below  this,  now  rugged  and  stony,  was 
once  graced  by  the  cottage  and  garden  of  Pe- 
trarch. All  traces  of  them  have  long  since  van- 
ished, but  a  simple  column,  bearing  the  inscrip- 
tion, "A  PETRARQUE,"  stands  beside  theSorgues. 

We  ascended  into  the  defile  by  a  path  among 
the  rocks,  overshadowed  by  olive  and  wild  fig 
trees,  to  the  celebrated  fountains  of  Vaucluse. 
The  glen  seems  as  if  struck  into  the  mountain's 
depths  by  one  blow  of  an  enchanter's  wand ;  and 
just  at  the  end,  where  the  rod  might  have  rested 
in  its  downward  sweep,  is  the  fathomless  well 
whose  overbrimming  fulness  gives  birth  to  the 
Borgues.  We  climbed  up  over  the  mossy  rocks 
und  sat  down  in  the  grot,  beside  the  dark,  still 
pool.  It  was  the  most  absolute  solitude.  The 
rocks  towered  above  and  over  us,  to  the  height 
of  six  hundred  feet,  and  the  gray  walls  of  the 
wild  glen  below  shut  out  all  appearance  of  life. 
I  leaned  over  the  rock  and  drank  of  the  blue 
crystal  that  <n-ew  gradually  darker  towards  the 
center,  till  it  became  a  mirror,  and  gave  back  a 
perfect  reflection  of  the  crags  above  it.  There 
was  no  bubbling— no  gushing  up  from  its  deep 
bosom — but  the  wealth  of  sparkling  waters  con- 
tinually welled  over,  as  from  a  too-full  goblet. 

It  was  witli  actual  sorrow  that  I  turned  away 
from  the  silent  spot.  I  never  visited  a  place  to 
which  the  fancy  clung  more  suddenly  and  fondly. 
There  is  something  holy  in  its  solitude,  making 
one  envy  Petrarch  the  years  of  calm  and  unsul- 
lied enjoyment  which  blessed  him  there.  As  some 
persons,  whom  we  pass  as  strangers,  strike  a 
hidden  chord  in  our  spirits,  compelling  a  silent 
sympathy  with  them,  so  some  landscapes  have 


420  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

a  character  of  beauty  which  harmoinzos  thrill, 
ingly  with  the  mood  in  whicli  we  look  upon  them, 
till  we  forget  admiration  in  the  glow  of  spun- 
taneous  attachment.  They  seem  like  abodes  of 
the  Beautiful,  which  the  soul  in  its  wanderings 
long  ago  visited,  and  now  recognizes  and  loves 
as  the  home  of  a  forgotten  dream.  It  was  thus 
I  felt  by  the  fountains  of  Vaucluse;  sadly  and 
with  weary  steps  I  turned  away,  leaving  its  lone- 
liness unbroken  as  before. 

We  returned  over  the  plain  in  the  wind,  under 
the  gloomy  sky, passed  L'Isle  at  dusk,  and  after 
walking  an  hour  with  a  rain  following  close  be- 
hind us,  stopped  at  an  auberge  in  Le  Thor.  where 
we  rested  our  tired  frames  and  broke  our  long 
day's  fasting.  We  were  greeted  in  the  morning 
with  a  dismal  rain  and  wet  roads,  as  we  1;<  gan 
the  march.  After  a  time,  however,  it  pound 
down  in  such  torrents,  that  we  were  obliged  to 
take  shelter  in  a  remise  by  the  roadside,  where  a 
good  woman,  who  addressed  us  in  the  unintel- 
ligible Provencal,  kindled  up  a  blazing  fire.  On 
climbing  a  long  hill,  when  the  storm  had  abated, 
we  experienced  a  delightful  surprise.  Below  us 
lay  the  broad  valley  of  the  Rhone,  with  its 
meadows  looking  fresh  and  spring-like  after  the 
rain.  The  clouds  were  breaking  away;  clear 
blue  sky  was  visible  over  Avignon,  and  a  belt  of 
sunlight  lay  warmly  along  the  mountains  of 
Languedoc.  Many  villages,  with  their  tall, 
picturesque  towers,  dotted  the  landscape,  and 
the  groves  of  green  olive  enlivened  the  barren- 
ness of  winter.  Two  or  three  hours'  walk  over 
the  plain,  by  a  road  fringed  with  willows,  brought 
us  to  the  gates  of  Avignon. 

We  walked  around  its  picturesque  turret ed 
wall,  and  rambled  through  its  narrow  streets, 
washed  here  and  there  by  streams  which  turn 
the  old  mill-wheels  lazily  around.  We  climbed 
up  to  the  massive  palace,  which  overlooks  the 
city  from  its  craggy  seat,  attesting  the  splendor 


VALLET  OF  THE  RHONE.  421 

it  enjoyed,  when  for  thirty  years  the  Papal 
Court  was  held  there,  and  the  gray,  weather- 
beaten,  irregular  building,  resembling  a  pile  of 
precipitous  rocks,  echoed  with  revels  of  licentious 
prelates.  We  could  not  enter  to  learn  the  ter- 
rible secrets  of  the  Inquisition,  here  unveiled, 
but  \ve  looked  up  at  the  tower,  from  which  the 
captive  Ilienzi  was  liberated  at  the  intercession 
of  Petrarch. 

After  leaving  Avignon,  we  took  the  road  up 
the  Rhone  for  Lyons,  turning  our  backs  upon 
the  rainy  south.  We  reached  the  village  of 
Sorgues  by  dusk,  and  accepted  the  invitation  of 
an  old  dame  to  lodge  at  her  inn,  which  proved 
to  be  a  blacksmith's  shop  !  It  was  nevertheless 
clean  and  comfortable,  and  wre  sat  down  in  one 
corner,  out  of  the  reach  of  the  showers  of  sparks, 
which  flew  hissing  from  a  red-hot  horseshoe,  that 
the  smith  and  his  apprentice  were  hammering. 
A  Piedmo:itese  pedlar,  who  carried  the  "Song  of 
the  Hoi,}'  St.  Philomene"  to  sell  among  the 
peasants,  came  in  directly,  and  bargained  for  a 
sleep  on  some  hay,  for  two  sous.  For  a  bed  in 
the  loft  over  the  shop,  we  were  charged  five  sous 
each,  which,  with  seven  sous  for  supper,  made 
our  expenses  for  the  night  about  eleven  cents ! 
Our  circumstances  demanded  the  greatest- 
economy,  and  we  began  to  fear  whether  even 
this  spare  allowance  would  enable  us  to  reach 
Lyons.  Owing  to  a  day's  delay  in  Marseilles, 
we  had  left  that  city  with  but  fifteen  francs  each ; 
the  incessant  storms  of  winter  and  the  Avorn-out 
state  of  our  shoes,  which  were  no  longer  proof 
against  water  or  mud,  prolonged  our  journey 
considerably,  so  that  by  starting  before  dawn  and 
walking  till  dark,  we  were  only  able  to  make 
thirty  miles  a  day.  We  could  always  procure 
beds  for  five  sous,  and  as  in  the  country  inns  one 
is  only  charged  for  what  he  chooses  to  order, 
our  frugal  suppers  cost  us  but  little.  We  pur- 
chased bread  and  cheese  in  the  villages,  and 


423  VIEWS   A- FOOT. 

made  our  breakfasts  and  dinners  on  a  bank  by 
the  roadside,  or  climbed  the  rocks  and  sat  down 
by  the  source  of  some  trickling  rill.  This  simple 
fare  had  an  excellent  relish,  and  although  we 
walked  in  wet  clothes  from  morning  till  night, 
often  lying  down  on  the  damp,  cold  earth  to 
rest,  our  health  was  never  affected. 

It  is  worth  all  the  toil  and  privation  we  have 
as  yet  undergone,  to  gain,  from  actual  experi- 
ence, the  blessed  knowledge  that  man  always  re- 
tains a  kindness  and  brotherly  sympathy  to- 
wards his  fellow — that  under  all  the  weight  of 
vice  and  misery  which  a  grinding  oppression  of 
soul  and  body  brings  on  the  laborers  of  earth, 
there  still  remains  many  bright  tokens  of  a  bet- 
ter nature.  Among  the  starving  mountaineers 
of  the  Hartz — the  degraded  peasantry  of  Bo- 
hemia— the  savage  contadini  of  Central  Italy, 
or  the  dwellers  on  the  hills  of  Provence  and  beside 
the  swift  Rhone,  we  almost  invariably  found 
kind,  honest  hearts,  and  an  aspiration  for  some- 
thing better,  betokening  the  consciousness  that 
such  brute-like,  obedient  existence  was  not  their 
proper  destiny.  We  found  few  so  hardened  as  to 
be  insensible  to  a  kind  look  or  a  friendly  word, 
and  nothing  made  us  forget  we  were  among 
strangers  so  much  as  the  many  tokens  of  sym- 
pathy which  met  us  when  least  looked  for.  A 
young  Englishman,  who  had  travelled  on  foot 
from  Geneva  to  Rome,  enduring  many  privations 
on  account  of  his  reduced  circumstances,  said  to 
me,  while  speaking  on  this  subject:  "A  single 
word  of  kindness  from  a  stranger  would  make 
my  heart  warm  and  my  spirits  cheerful,  for  days 
afterwards."  There  is  not  so  much  evil  in  man 
as  men  would  have  us  believe ;  and  it  is  a  happy 
comfort  to  know  and  feel  this. 

Leaving  our  little  inn  before  daybreak  the 
next  morning,  we  crossed  the  Sorgues,  grown 
muddy  since  its  infancy  at  Yaucluse,  like  many 
a. young  soul,  whose  mountain  ourity  goes  out 


ROMAN  REMAINS.  423 

into  the  soiling  world  and  becomes  sullied  for- 
ever.  The  road  passed  over  broad,  barren 
ranges  of  hills,  and  the  landscape  was  destitute 
of  all  interest,  till  we  approached  Orange.  This 
city  is  built  at  the  foot  of  a  rocky  height,  a  great 
square  projection  of  which  seemed  to  stand  in 
its  midst.  As  we  approached  nearer,  however, 
arches  and  lines  of  cornice  could  be  discerned, 
and  we  recognized  it  as  the  celebrated  amphi- 
theatre, one  of  the  grandest  Roman  relics  in  the 
south  of  France. 

I  stood  at  the  foot  of  this  great  fabric  and 
gazed  up  at  it  in  astonishment.  The  exterior 
wall,  three  hundred  and  thirty-four  feet  in  length, 
and  rising  to  the  height  of  one  hundred  and 
twenty-  one  feet,  is  still  in  excellent  preservation, 
and  through  its  rows  of  solid  arches  one  looks 
on  the  broken  ranges  of  seats  within.  On  the 
crag  above,  and  looking  as  if  about  to  topple 
down  on  it,  is  a  massive  fragment  of  the  fort- 
ress of  the  Princes  of  Orange,  razed  by  Louis 
XIV.  Passing  through  the  city  we  came  to  the 
beautiful  Roman  triumphal  arch,  which  to  my 
eye  is  a  finer  structure  than  that  of  Constantine 
at  Rome.  It  is  built  of  a  rich  yellow  marble  and 
highly  ornamented  with  sculptured  trophies. 
From  the  barbaric  shields  and  the  letters  MARIO, 
still  remaining,  it  has  been  supposed  to  com- 
memorate the  victory  of  Marius  over  the  bar- 
barians, near  Aix.  A  frieze  running  along  the 
top,  on  each  side,  shows,  although  broken  and 
much  defaced  by  the  weather,  the  life  and  action 
which  once  marked  the  struggling  figures.  These 
Roman  ruins,  scattered  through  Provence  and 
Languedoc,  though  inferior  in  historical  inter- 
est, equal  in  architectural  beauty  the  greater 
part  of  those  in  the  Eternal  City  itself. 

The  rest  of  the  day  the  road  was  monoton- 
ous, though  varied  somewhat  by  the  tall  crags 
of  Mornas  and  Mont-dragon,  towering  over  the 
villages  of  the  same  name.  Night  came  on  as 


424  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

the  rock  of  Pierrelatte,  at  whose  foot  we  were  to 
sleep,  appeared  in  the  distance,  rising  like  a  Gib- 
raltar from  the  plain,  and  we  only  reached  it  in 
time  to  escape  the  rain  that  came  down  the  val- 
ley of  the  Rhone. 

Next  day  we  passed  several  companies  of  sol- 
diers on  their  way  to  Africa.  One  of  them  was 
accompanied  by  a  young  girl,  apparently  the 
wife  of  the  recruit  by  wrhose  side  she  was  march- 
ing. She  wore  the  tight  blue  jacket  of  the  troop, 
and  a  red  skirt,  reaching  to  the  knees,  over  her 
soldier  pantaloons ;  while  her  pretty  face  showed 
to  advantage  beneath  a  small  military  cap.  It 
was  a  "Fille  du  Regiment"  in  real  life.  Near 
Montelimart,  we  lost  sight  of  Mont  Ventoux, 
whose  gleaming  white  crest  had  been  visible  all 
the  way  from  vaucluse,  and  passed  along  the 
base  of  a  range  of  hills  running  near  to  the  river. 
So  went  our  march  without  a  particular  incident, 
till  we  bivouacked  for  the  night  among  a  com- 
pany of  soldiers  in  the  little  village  of  Loriol. 

Leaving  at  six  o'clock,  wakened  by  the 
trumpets  which  called  up  the  soldiery  to  their 
day's  march,  we  reached  the  river  Drome  at 
dawn,  and  from  the  bridge  over  its  rapid  cur- 
rent, gazed  at  the  dim,  ash-colored  masses  of 
the  Alps  of  Dauphine,  piled  along  the  sky  far  up 
the  valley.  The  coming  of  morn  threw  a  yellow 

flow  along  their  snowy  sides,  and  lighted  up, 
ere  and  there,  a  flashing  glacier.  The  peas- 
antry were  already  up  and  at  work,  and  cara- 
vans of  pack-wagons  rumbled  along  in  the  morn- 
ing twilight.  We  trudged  on  with  them,  and 
by  breakfast-time  had  made  some  distance  of 
the  way  to  Valence.  The  road,  which  does  not 
approach  the  Rhone,  is  devoid  of  interest  and 
tiresome,  though  under  a  summer  sky.  when  the 
bare  vine-hills  are  latticed  over  with  green,  and 
the  fruit-trees  covered  with  blossoms  and  foliage, 
it  might  be  a  scene  of  great  beauty. 
Valence,  which  we  reached  towards  noon,  is  a 


THE  RHONE.  426 

commonplace  city  on  the  Rhone ;  and  my  onlj 
reason  for  traversing  its  dirty  streets  in  prefer- 
ence to  taking  the  road,  which  passes  without 
the  walls,  were— to  get  something  for  dinner,  and 
because  it  might  have  been  the  birth-place  of 
Ayiner  de  Valence,  the  valorous  Crusader,  chron- 
icled in  "Ivanhoe,"  whose  tomb  I  had  seen  in 
Westminster  Abbey.  One  of  the  streets  which 
was  marked  "Rue  Bayard"  shows  that  my  va- 
liant namesake — the  knight  without  fear  and  re- 
proach— is  still  remembered  in  his  native  prov- 
ince. The  ruins  of  his  chateau  are  still  standing 
among  the  Alps  near  Grenoble. 

In  the  afternoon  we  crossed  the  Isere,  a  swift, 
muddy  river,  which  rises  among  the'  Alps  of 
Dauphine.  We  saw  their  icy  range,  among 
which  is  the  desert  solitude  of  the  Grand  Char- 
treuse, far  up  the  valley ;  but  the  thick  atmos- 
phere hid  the  mighty  Mont  Blanc,  whose  cloudy 
outline,  eighty  miles  distant  in  a  "bee  line,"  is 
visible  in  fair  weather.  At  Tain,  we  came  upon 
the  Rhone  again,  and  walked  along  the  base  of 
the  hills  which  contract  its  current.  Here,  I 
should  call  it  beautiful.  The  scenery  has  a  wild- 
ness  that  approaches  to  that  of  the  Rhine. 
Rocky,  castellated  heights  frown  over  the  rush- 
ing waters,  which  have  something  of  the  majesty 
of  their  "exulting  and  abounding"  rival. 
Winding  around  the  curving  hills,  the  scene  is 
constantly  varied,  and  the  little  willowed  islets 
clasped  in  the  embrace  of  the  stream,  mingle  a 
trait  of  softened  beauty  with  its  sterner  char- 
acter. 

After  passing  the  night  at  a  village  on  its 
banks,  wre  left  it  again  at  St.  Yalher;  the  next 
morning.  At  sunset,  the  spires  of  Vienne  were 
visible,  and  the  lofty  Mont  Pilas,  the  snows  of 
whose  riven  summits  feed  the  springs  of  the 
Loire  on  its  western  side,  stretched  majestically 
along  the  opposite  bank  of  the  Rhone.  In  a 
meadow,  near  Vienne,  stands  a  curious  Roman 


428  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

obelisk,  seventy-six  feet  in  height.  The  base  Is 
composed  of  four  pillars,  connected  by  arches, 
and  the  whole  structure  has  a  barbaric  air,  com- 
pared with  the  more  elegant  monuments  of 
Orange  and  Nismes.  Vienne,  which  is  mentioned 
by  several  of  the  Roman  historians  under  its 
present  name,  was  the  capital  of  the  Allobroges, 
and  I  looked  upon  it  with  a  new  and  strange  in- 
terest, on  calling  to  mind  my  school-boy  days, 
when  I  had  become  familiar  with  that  war-like 
race,  in  toiling  over  the  pages  of  Caesar.  We 
walked  in  the  mud  and  darkness  for  what  seemed 
a  great  distance,  and  finally  took  shelter  in  a 
little  inn  at  the  northern  end  of  the  city.  Two 
Belgian  soldiers,  coming  from  Africa,  were  al- 
ready quartered  there,  and  we  listened  to  their 
tales  of  the  Arab  and  the  desert,  while  supper 
was  preparing. 

The  morning  of  the  25th  was  dull  and  rainy; 
the  road,  very  muddy  and  unpleasant,  led  over 
the  hills,  avoiding  the  westward  curve  of  the 
Rhone,  directly  towards  Lyons.  About  noon, 
we  came  in  sight  of  the  broad  valley  in  which 
the  Rhone  first  clasps  his  Burgundian  bride — 
the  Saone,  and  a  cloud  of  Impenetrable  coal- 
smoke  showed  us  the  location  of  Lyons.  A 
nearer  approach  revealed  a  large  flat  dome,  and 
some  ranges  of  tall  buildings  near  the  river. 
We  soon  entered  the  suburb  of  La  Guillotiere, 
which  has  sprung  up  on  the  eastern  bank  oi  the 
Rhone.  Notwithstanding  our  clothes  were  like 
sponges,  our  boots  entirely  worn  out,  and  our 
bodies  somewhat  thin  with  nine  days  exposure 
to  the  wintry  storms  in  walking  two  hundred 
and  ibrty  miles,  we  entered  Lyons  with  suspense 
and  anxiety.  But  one  franc  apiece  remained 
out  of  the  fifteen  with  which  we  left  Marseilles. 

B wrote  home  some  time  ago,  directing  a 

remittance  to  be  forwarded  to  a  merchant  at 
Paris,  to  whom  he  luid  a  letter  of  introduction, 
and  m  the  hope  tlint  this  had  arrived,  he  deter- 


A  GLOOM T  SITUATION.  4#l 

mined  to  enclose  the  letter  in  a  note,  stating  our 
circumstances,  and  requesting  him  to  forward  a 
part  of  the  remittance  to  Lyons.  We  had  then 
to  wait  at  least  four  days ;  people  are  suspicious 
and  mistrustful  in  cities,  and  if  no  relief  should 
come,  what  was  to  be  done  ? 

After  wading  through  the  mud  of  the  suburbs, 
we  chose  a  common-looking  inn  near  the  river, 
as  the  comfort  of  our  stay  depended  wholly  on 
the  kindness  of  our  hosts,  and  we  hoped  to  find 
more  sympathy  among  the  laboring  classes. 
We  engaged  lodgings  for  four  or  five  days ;  after 
dinner  the  letter  was  dispatched,  and  we  wan- 
dered about  through  the  dark,  dirty  city  until 
night.  Our  landlord,  Monsieur  Ferrand,  was  a 
rough,  vigorous  man,  with  a  gloomy,  discon- 
tented expression;  his  words  were  few  and 
blunt ;  but  a  certain  restlessness  of  manner,  and 
a  secret  flashing  of  his  cold,  forbidding  eye  be- 
trayed to  me  some  strong  hidden  excitement. 
Madame  Ferrand  was  kind  and  talkative, 
though  passionate ;  but  the  appearance  of  the 
place  gave  me  an  unfavorable  impression,  which 
was  heightened  by  the  thought  that  it  was  now 
impossible  to  change  our  lodgings  until  relief 
should  arrive.  When  bed-time  came,  a  ladder 
was  placed  against  a  sort  of  high  platform 
along  one  side  of  the  kitchen ;  we  mounted  and 
found  a  bed,  concealed  from  the  view  of  those 
below  by  a  dusty  muslin  curtain.  We  lay  there, 
between  heaven  and  earth — the  dirty  earth  of 
the  brick  floor  and  the  sooty  heaven  of  the  ceil- 
ing— listening  until  midnight  to  the  boisterous 
songs,  and  loud,  angry  disputes  in  the  room  ad- 
joining. Thus  ended  our  first  day  in  Lyons. 

Five  weary  days,  each  of  them  containing  a 
month  of  torturing  suspense,  have  since  passed. 
Our  lodging-place  grew  so  unpleasant  that  we 
preferred  wandering  all  day  through  the  misty, 
muddy,  smoky  streets,  taking  refuge  in  the  cov- 
ered bazaars  when  it  rained  heavily.  The  gloom 


428  \  JEWS  A- FOOT. 

of  every  thing  around  us,  entirely  smothered 
down  the  lightness  of  heart,  which  made  us 
laugh  over  our  embarrassments  at  Vienna. 
When  at  evening,  the  dull,  leaden  hue  of  the 
clouds  seemed  to  make  the  air  dark  and  cold 
and  heavy,  we  walked  beside  the  swollen  and 
turbid  Rhone,  under  an  avenue  of  leafless  trees, 
the  damp  soil  chilling  our  feet  and  striking  a 
numbness  through  our  frames,  and  then  I  knew 
what  those  must  feel  who  have  no  hope  in  their 
destitution,  and  not  a  friend  in  all  the  great 
world,  who  is  not  wretched  as  themselves.  I  prize 
the  lesson,  though  the  price  of  it  is  hard. 

"This  morning,"  I  said  to  B ,  "will  termi- 
nate our  suspense.''  I  felt  cheerful  in  spite  of 
myself;  and  this  was  like  a  presentiment  of 
coming  good  luck.  To  pass  the  time  till  the  mail 
arrived  we  climbed  to  the  chapel  of  Fourvieres, 
whose  walls  are  covered  with  votive  offerings  to 
a  miraculous  picture  of  the  Virgin.  But  at  the 
precise  hour  we  were  at  the  Post  Office.  What 
an  intensity  of  suspense  can  be  felt  in  that  min- 
ute, while  the  clerk  is  looking  over  the  letters! 
And  what  a  lightning-like  shock  of  joy  when  it 
did  come,  and  was  opened  with  eager,  trembling 
hands,  revealing  the  relief  we  had  almost  de- 
spaired o/!  The  city  did  not  seem  less  gloomy, 
for  that  was  impossible,  but  the  faces  of  the 
crowd  which  had  appeared  cold  and  suspicious, 
were  now  kino  and  cheerful.  We  came  home  to 
our  lodgings  with  changed  feelings,  and  Madame 
Ferrand  must  hfcve  seen  the  joy  in  our  faces,  for 
she  greeted  us  with  an  unusual  smile. 

We  leave  to-iiiori  ow  morning  for  Chalons.  I  do 
not  feel  disposed  to  Describe  Lyons  particularly, 
although  I  have  bvXiome  intimately  acquainted 
with  every  part  of  it.  froi/i  Presqrf  isle  Pen-ache 
to  Croix  Eousse.  I  know  the  contents  of  every 
shop  in  the  Bazaar,  and  the  passajye  of  the 
Hotel  Dieu — the  title  of  evf-y  volume  in  the 
bookstores  in  the  Place  Belcou.:—  uuO  Jie  ^otiu- 


DEPAR  TURK  FR OM  L  TONS.  429 

tenance  of  every  boot-black  and  apple-woman 
on  the  Quais  on  both  sides  of  the  river.  I  have 
walked  up  the  Saone  to  Pierre  Seise — down  the 
Rhone  to  his  muddy  marriage — climbed  the 
Heights  of  Fourvieres,  and  promenaded  in  the 
Cours  Napoleon!  Why,  men  have  been  presented 
with  the  freedom  of  cities,  when  they  have  had 
far  less  cause  for  such  an  honor  than  this  I 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

TRAVELLING    IN    BURGUNDY— THE  MISERIES    OF    A 
COUNTRY  DILIGENCE. 

Paris,  Feb.  6,  1846.— Every  letter  of  the  date 
is  traced  with  an  emotion  of  joy,  for  our  dreary 
journey  is  over.  There  was  a  magic  in  the  name 
that  revived  us  during  a  long  journey,  and  now 
the  thought  that  it  is  all  over— that  these  walls 
»vhich  enclose  us,  stand  in  the  heart  of  the  gay 
city — seems  almost  too  joyful  to  be  true. 
Yesterday  I  marked  with  the  whitest  chalk,  on 
the  blackest  of  all  tablets  to  make  the  contrast 
greater,  for  I  got  out  of  the  cramped  diligence 
at  the  Barriere  de  Charenton,  and  saw  before  me 
in  the  morning  twilight,  the  immense  gray  mass 
of  Paris.  I  forgot  my  numbed  and  stiffened 
frame,  and  every  other  of  the  thousand  disagree- 
able feelings  of  diligence  travelling,  in  the 
pleasure  which  that  sight  afforded. 

We  arose  in  the  dark  at  Lyons,  and  after 
bidding  adieu  to  morose  Monsieur  Ferrand, 
traversed  the  silent  city  and  found  our  way  in 
the  mist  and  gloom  to  the  steamboat  landing 
on  the  Saone.  The  waters  were  swollen  much 
above  their  usual  level ,  which  was  favorable  for 
the  boat,  as  long  as  there  was  room  enough  left 
to  pass  under  the  bridges.  After  a  great  deal  of 


430  VIEWS  A-FOOT 

bustle  we  got  under  way,  and  were  dashing  out 
of  Lyons,  against  the  swift  current,  before  day- 
break. We  passed  L'Isle  Barbe,  once  a  favorite 
residence  of  Charlemagne,  and  now  the  haunt  of 
the  Lyonnaise  on  summer  holidays,  and  going 
under  the  supensiou  bridges  with  levelled 
chimneys,  entered  the  picturesque  hills  above, 
which  are  covered  with  vineyards  nearly  to  the 
top;  the  villages  scattered  over  them  have  those 
square,  pointed  towers,  wrhich  give  such  a 
quaintness  to  French  country  scenery. 

The  stream  being  very  high,  the  meadows  on 
both  sides  were  deeply  overflowed.  To  avoid 
the  strong  current  in  the  centre,  our  boat  ran 
along  the  banks,  pushing  aside  the  alder  thickets 
and  poplar  shoots;  in  passing  the  bridges, 
the  pipes  were  always  brought  down  flat  on 
the  deck.  A  little  after  noon,  we  passed  the 
large  town  of  Macon,  the  birth-place  of  the  poet 
Lamartine.  The  valley  of  Saone,  no  longer 
enclosed  among  the  hills,  spread  out  to  several 
miles  in  width.  Along  the  west  lay  in  sunshine 
the  vine  mountains  of  Cote  d'Or,  and  among  the 
dark  clouds  in  the  eastern  sky,  we  could  barely 
distinguish  the  outline  of  the  Jura.  The  walers 
were  so  much  swollen  as  to  cover  the  plain  for 
two  or  three  miles.  We  seemed  to  be  sailing 
down  a  lake,  with  rows  of  trees  springing  up  out 
of  the  water,  and  houses  and  villages  lying  like 
islands  on  its  surface.  A  sunset  that  promised 
better  weather  tinged  the  broad  brown  flood,  as 
Chalons  came  in  sight,  looking  like  a  city  built 
along  the  shore  of  a  lake.  We  squeezed  through 
the  crowd  of  porters  and  diligence  men,  declining 
their  kind  offers,  and  hunted  quarters  to  suit 
ourselves. 

We  left  Chalons  on  the  morning  of  the  1st,  in 
high  spirits  at  the  thought  that  there  were  but 
little  more  than  two  hundred  miles  between  us 
and  Paris.  In  walking  over  the  cold,  muddy 
plain,  we  passed  a  family  of  strolling  musicians. 


THE  RUIN  AND  ROrCHEPOT.  431 

who  were  sitting  on  a  heap  of  stones  by  the 
roadside.  An  ill-dressed,  ill-natured  man  and 
woman,  each  carrying  a  violin,  and  a  thin, 
squalid  girl  with  a  tamborine,  composed  the 
group.  Their  faces  bore  that  unfeeling  stamp, 
which  springs  from  depravity  and  degradation. 
When  we  had  walked  somewhat  more  than  a 
mile,  we  overtook  a  little  girl,  who  was  crying 
bitterly.  By  her  features,  from  wrhich  the  fresh 
beauty  of  childhood  had  not  been  worn,  and  the 
steel  triangle  which  was  tied  to  her  belt,  we 
knew  she  belonged  to  the  family  we  had 
passed.  Her  dress  was  thin  and  ragged  and  a 
pair  of  wooden  shoes  but  ill  protected  her  feet 
from  the  sharp  cold.  I  stopped  and  asked  her 
ivhy  she  cried,  but  she  did  not  at  first  answer. 
However,  by  questioning,  I  found  her  unfeeling 
parents  had  sent  her  on  without  food ;  she  was 
robbing  with  hunger  and  cold.  Our  pockets 
ivere  full  of  bread  and  cheese  wThich  we  had 
bought  for  breakfast,  and  we  gave  her  half  a 
loaf,  which  stopped  her  tears  at  once.  She 
looked  up  and  thanked  us,  smiling;  and  sitting 
:lown  on  a  bank,  began  to  eat  as  if  half  famished. 
The  physiognomy  of  this  region  is  very  singu- 
lar. It  appears  as  if  the  country  had  been 
originally  a  vast  elevated  plain,  and  some  great 
I  >o\ver  had  scooped  out,  as  with  a  hand,  deep 
circular  valleys  all  over  its  surface.  In  winding 
along  the  high  ridges,  we  often  looked  down,  on 
either  side,  into  such  hollows,  several  miles  in 
diameter,  and  sometimes  entirely  covered  with 
vineyards.  At  La  Rochepot,  a  quaint,  antique 
village,  lying  in  the  bottom  of  one  of  these  dells, 
we  saw  the  finest  ruin  of  the  middle  ages  that  I 
have  met  with  in  France.  An  American  lady 
had  spoken  to  me  of  it  in  Rome,  and  I  believe 
Willis  mentions  it  in  his  "Pencillings,"  but  it  is 
not  described  in  the  guide  books,  nor  could  we 
learn  what  feudal  lord  had  ever  dwelt  in  its  halls. 
It  covers  the  summit  of  a  stately  rock,  at  whose 


432  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

foot  the  village  is  crouched,  and  the  green  ivy 
climbs  up  to  the  very  top  of  its  gray  towers. 

As  the  road  makes  a  wide  curve  around  the 
side  of  the  hill,  we  descended  to  the  village  by  the 
nearer  foot-path,  and  passed  among  its  low,  old 
houses,  with  their  pointed  gables  and  mossy 
roofs.  The  path  led  close  along  the  foot  of  the 
rock,  and  we  climbed  up  to  the  ruin,  and  stood 
in  its  grass-grown  courtyard.  Only  the  outer 
walls  and  the  round  towers  at  each  corner  are 
left  remaining ;  the  inner  part  has  been  razed  to 
the  ground,  and  where  proud  barons  once  mar- 
shalled their  vassals,  the  villagers  now  play  their 
holiday  games.  On  one  side,  several  Gothic 
windows  are  left  standing,  perfect,  though  of 
simple  construction,  and  in  the  towers  we  saw 
many  fire-places  and  door-ways  of  richly  cut 
stone,  wrhich  looked  as  fresh  as  if  just  erected. 

We  passed  the  night  at  Ivry  (not  the  Ivry 
which  gained  Henri  Quatre  his  kingdom)  and 
then  continued  our  march  over  roads  which  I 
can  only  compare  to  our  country  roads  in  Amer- 
ica during  the  spring  thaw.  In  addition  to  this, 
the  rain  commenced  early  in  the  morning  and 
continued  all  day,  so  that  we  were  completely 
wet  the  whole  time.  The  plains,  too  high  and 
cold  to  produce  wine,  were  varied  by  forests  of 
beech  and  oak,  and  the  population  was  thinly 
scattered  over  them  in  small  villages.  Travellers 
generally  complain  very  much  of  the  monotony 
of  this  "part  of  France,  and,  with  such  dreary 
weather,  we  could  not  disagree  with  them. 

As  the  day  wore  on,  the  rain  increased,  and 
the  sky  put  on  that  dull,  gray  cast,  which  de- 
notes lengthened  storm.  We  were  fain  to  stop 
at  nightfall,  but  there  was  no  inn  near  at  hand- 
not  even  a  hovel  of  a  cabaret  in  which  to  shelter 
ourselves,  and,  on  enquiring  of  the  wagoners,  we 
received  the  comforting  assurance  that  there 
was  yet  a  league  and  a  half  to  the  nearest  stop- 
ping place.  On,  then,  we  went,  with  the  pitileag 


BT  DILIGENCE  TO  PARIS.  433 

storm  beating  in  our  faces  and  on  our  breasts, 
till  there  was  not  a  dry  spot  left,  except  what 
our  knapsacks  covered.  We  could  not  have 
been  more  completely  saturated  if  we  had  been 
dipped  in  the  Yonne.  At  length,  after  two  hours 
of  slipping  and  sliding  along  in  the  mud  and  wet 
and  darkness,  we  reached  Saulieu,  and,  by  the 
warm  fire,  thanked  our  stars  that  the  day's  dis- 
mal train],  was  over. 

By  good  or  bad  luck  (I  have  not  yet  decided 
which)  a  vehicle  was  to  start  the  next  morning 
for  Auxerre,  distant  sixty  miles,  and  the  fare 
being  but  five  francs,  we  thought  it  wisest  to  take 
places.  It  was  always  with  reluctance  that  we 
departed  from  our  usual  mode  of  travelling,  but, 
in  the  present  instance,  the  circumstances  abso- 
lutely compelled  it. 

Next  morning,  at  sunrise,  we  took  our  seats 
in  a  large,  square  vehicle  on  two  wheels,  cal- 
culated for  six  persons  and  a  driver,  with  a  sin- 
gle horse.  But,  as  he  was  fat  and  round  as 
an  elephant,  and  started  off  at  a  brisk  pace,  and 
we  were  well  protected  from  the  rain,  it  was  not 
so  bad  after  all,  barring  the  jolts  and  jarred 
vertebra?.  We  drove  on,  over  the  same  dreary 
expanse  of  plain  and  forest,  passing  through 
two  or  three  towns  in  the  course  of  the  day,  and 
by  evening  had  made  somewhat  more  than  half 
our  journey.  Owing  to  the  slowness  of  our  fi  esh 
horse,  wre  were  jolted  about  the  whole  night,  and 
did  not  arrive  at  Auxerre  until  six  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  After  waiting  an  hour  in  a  hotel  be- 
side the  rushing  Yonne,  a  lumbering  diligence 
was  got  ready,  and  we  were  given  places  to 
Paris  for  seven  francs.  As  the  distance  is  one 
hundred  and  ten  miles,  this  would  be  considered 
cheap,  but  I  should  not  want  to  travel  it  again 
and  be  paid  for  doing  so;  Twelve  persons  were 
packed  into  a  box  not  large  enough  for  a  cow, 
and  no  cabinet-maker  ever  dove-tailed  the  cor- 
ners of  his  bureaus  tighter  than  we  did  our  knees 


434  VIEWS   A-FOOT. 

and  nether  extremities.  It  is  my  lot  to  be 
blessed  with  abundance  of  stature,  and  none  but 
tall  persons  can  appreciate  the  misery  of  sitting 
for  hours  with  their  joints  in  an  immovable  vise. 
The  closeness  of  the  atmosphere— for  the  pas- 
sengers would  not  permit  the  windows  to  be 
opened  for  fear  of  taking  cold — combined  with 
loss  of  sleep,  made  me  so  drowsy  that  my  head 
was  continually  falling  on  my  next  neighbor, 
who,  being  a  heavy  country  lady,  thrust  it  in- 
dignantly away.  I  would  then  try  my  best  to 
keep  it  up  awhile,  but  it  would  droop  gradually, 
till  the  crash  of  a  bonnet  or  a  smart  bump 
against  some  other  head  would  recall  me,  for  a 
moment,  to  consciousness. 

We  passed  Joigny,  on  the  Yonne,  Sens,  with 
its  glorious  old  cathedral,  and  at  dusk  reached 
Moutereau,  on  the  Seine.  This  was  the  scene  of 
one  of  Napoleon's  best  victories,  on  his  return 
from  Elba.  In  driving  over  the  bridge,  I  looked 
down  on  the  swift  and  swollen  current,  and  hoped 
that  its  hue  might  never  be  darkened  again  so 
fearfully  as  the  last  sixty  years  have  witnessed. 
No  river  in  Europe  has  such  an  association  con- 
nected with  it.  We  think  of  the  Danube,  for  its 
majesty,  of  the  Rhine,  for  its  wild  beauty,  but  of 
the  Seine — for  its  blood ! 

In  coming  thus  to  the  last  famed  stream  I 
shall  visit  in  Europe^  I  might  say,  with  Barry 
Cornwall : 

"  We've  sailed  through  banks  of  green, 

Where  the  wild  waves  fret  and  quiver; 
And  we've  down  the  Danube  been — 

The  dark,  deep,  thundering  river! 
We've  thridded  the  Elbe  and  Rhone, 

The  Tiber  and  blood  dyed  Seine, 
And  we've  been  where  the  blue  Garonne 

Goes  laughing  to  meet  the  main!" 

All  that  night  did  we  endure  squeezing  and  suf- 
focation, and  no  morn  was  ever  more  welcome 
than  that  which  revealed  to  us  Paris.  With 


ARRIVAL  IN  PARIS.  435 

matted  hair,  wild,  glaring  eyes,  and  dusty  and 
dishevelled  habiliments,  we  entered  the  gay  capi- 
tal, and  blessed  every  stone  upon  which  we 
placed  our  feet,  in  the  fulness  of  our  joy. 

In  paying  our  fare  at  Auxerre,  I  was  obliged  to 
use  a  draft  on  the  banker,  Rougemont  de  Lowen- 
berg.  The  ignorant  conductor  hesitated  to 
change  this,  but  permitted  us  to  go,  on  con- 
dition of  keeping  it  until  we  should  arrive. 
Therefore,  on  getting  out  of  the  diligence,  after 
forty-eight  hours  of  sleepless  and  fasting  misery, 
the  facteur  of  the  office  went  with  me  to  get  it 

paid,  leaving  B to  wait  for  us.  I  knew 

nothing  of  Paris,  and  this  merciless  man  kept 
me  for  three  hours  at  his  heels,  following  him  on 
all  his  errands,  before  he  did  mine,  in  that  time 
traversing  the  whole  length  of  the  city,  in  order 
to  leave  a  chevre-feuWe  at  an  aristocratic  resi- 
dence in  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain.  Yet  even 
combined  weariness  and  hunger  could  not  pre- 
vent me  from  looking  with  vivid  interest  down  a 
long  avenue,  at  the  Column  of  the  place  "V  en- 
dome,  in  passing,  and  gazing  up  in  wonder  at 
the  splendid  portico  of  the  Madeleine.  But  of 
anything  else  I  have  a  very  faint  remembrance. 
"You  can  eat  breakfast,  now,  I  think,"  said  he, 
when  we  returned,  "we  have  walked  more  than 
four  leagues! " 

I  know  we  will  be  excused,  that,  instead  of 
hurrying  away  to  Notre  Dame  or  the  Louvre, 
we  sat  down  quietly  to  a  most  complete 
breakfast.  Even  the  most  romantic  must  be 
forced  to  confess  that  admiration  does  not  sit 
well  on  an  empty  stomach.  Our  first  walk  was 
to  a  bath,  and  then,  with  complexions  several 
shades  lighter,  and  limbs  that  felt  as  if  lifted  by 
invisible  wings,  we  hurried  away  to  the  Post  Of- 
fice. I  seized  the  welcome  missives  from  my  far 
home,  with  a  beating  li<>ai -t,  ,md  hastening  b.H-k, 
read  till  the  words  became  indistinct  in  the  twi- 
light, 


436  VIEWS  A- FOOT, 

CHAPTER  XLV. 

POETICAL  SCENES  IN  PARIS. 

What  a  gay  little  world  in  miniature  this  is!  I 
wonder  not  that  the  French,  with  their  exuber- 
ant gaiety  of  spirit,  should  revel  in  its  ceaseless 
tides  of  pleasures,  as  if  it  were  an  earthly  Elys- 
ium. I  feel  already  the  influence  of  its  cheerful 
atmosphere,  and  have  rarely  threaded  the  crowds 
of  a  stranger  city,  with  so  light  a  heart  as  I  do  now 
daily,  on  the  thronged  banks  of  the  Seine.  And 
yet  it  would  be  difficult  to  describe  wherein  con- 
sists this  agreeable  peculiarity.  You  can  find 
streets  as  dark  and  crooked  and  dirty  anywhere 
in  Germany,  and  squares  and  gardens  as  gay 
and  sunny  beyond  the  Alps,  and  yet  they  would 
affect  you  far  -differently.  You  could  not,  as 
here,  divest  yourself  of  every  particle  of  sad  or 
serious  thought  and  be  content  to  gaze  for  hours 
on  the  showy  scene,  without  an  idea  beyond  the 
pi  esent  moment.  It  must  be  that  the  spirit  of 
the  crowd  is  magnetically  contagious. 

The  evening  of  our  arrival  we  walked  out  past 
the  massive  and  stately  Hotel  de  Ville,  and  took 
a  promenade  along  the  Quais.  The  shops  facing 
th3  river  presented  a  scene  of  great  splendor. 
Several  of  the  Quais  on  the  north  bank  of  the 
Seine  are  occupied  almost  entirely  by  jewellers, 
the  windows  of  whose  shops,  arranged  in  a  style 
of  tie  greatest  taste,  make  a  dazzling  display. 
Rows  of  gold  watches  and  chains  are  arranged 
across  the  crystal  panes,  and  heaped  in  pyra- 
mids on  long  glass  slabs ;  cylindrical  wheels  of 
wire,  hung  with  jewelled  breastpins  and  ear-rings, 
turn  slowly  around  by  some  invisible  agency, 
displaying  row  after  row  of  their  glittering 
treasures. 


NOTRE  DAME.  437 

From  the  centre  of  the  Pont  Neuf,  we  could  see 
for  a  long  distance  up  and  doAvn  the  river.  The 
different  bridges  traced  on  either  side  a  dozen 
starry  lines  through  the  dark  air,  and  a  con- 
tinued blaze  lighted  the  two  shores  in  their  whole 
length,  revealing  the  outline  of  the  Isle  de  la 
Cite.  I  recognized  the  Palaces  of  the  Louvre 
and  the  Tuileries  in  the  dusky  mass  beyond. 
Eastward,  looming  against  the  dark  sky,  I  "could 
faintly  trace  the  black  towers  of  Notre  Dame. 
The  rushing  of  the  swift  waters  below  mingled 
with  the  rattling  of  a  thousand  carts  and  car- 
riages, and  the  confusion  of  a  thousand  voices, 
till  it  seemed  like  some  grand  nightly  festival. 

I  first  saw  Notre  Dame  by  moonlight.  The 
shadow  of  its  stupendous  front  was  thrown  di- 
rectly towards  me,  hiding  the  innumerable  lines 
of  the  ornamental  sculpture  which  coyer  its  tall, 
square  towers.  I  walked  forward  until  the  inter- 
lacing, Moorish  arches  between  them  stood  full 
against  the  moon,  and  the  light,  struggling 
through  the  quaint  openings  of  the  tracery, 
streamed  in  silver  lines  down  into  the  shadow. 
The  square  before  it  was  quite  deserted,  for  it 
stands  on  a  lonely  part  of  the  Isle  de  la  Cite,  and 
it  looked  thus  far  more  majestic  and  solemn  than 
in  the  glaring  daylight. 

The  great  quadrangle  of  the  Tuileries  encloses 
the  Place  du  Carrousel,  in  the  centre  of  which 
stands  a  triumphal  arch,  erected  by  Napoleon 
after  his  Italian  victories.  Standing  in  the  mid- 
dle of  this  arch,  you  look  through  the  open  pas- 
sage in  the  central  building  of  the  palace,  into 
the  Gardens  beyond.  Further  on,  in  a  direct 
line,  the  middle  avenue  of  the  Gardens  extends 
away  to  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  where  the 
Obelisk  of  Luxor  makes  a  perpendicular  line 
through  your  vista ;  still  further  goes  the  broad 
avenue  through  the  Elysian  Fields,  until  afar 
off,  the  Arc  de  1'  Etoile,  two  miles  distant,  closes 
this  view  through  the  palace  doorway. 


438  VIEWS   A- FOOT. 

Let  us  go  through  it,  and  on,  to  the  Place  de 
la  Concorde,  reserving  the  Gardens  for  another 
time.  What  is  there  in  Europe — nay,  in  the 
world, — equal  to  this  ?  In  the  centre  the  mighty 
obelisk  of  red  granite  pierces  the  sky, — on  either 
hand  showers  of  silver  spray  are  thrown  up 
from  splendid  bronze  fountains — statues  and 
pillars  of  gilded  bronze  sweep  in  a  grand  circle 
around  the  square,  and  on  each  side  magnificent 
vistas  lead  the  eye  off,  and  combine  the  distant 
with  the  near,  to  complete  this  unparalleled 
view!  Eastward,  beyond  the  tall  trees  in  the 
garden  of  the  Tuileries,  rises  the  long  front  of 
the  Palace,  with  the  tri-color  floating  above; 
westward,  in  front  of  us,  is  the  forest  of  the 
Elysian  Fields,  with  the  arch  of  triumph  nearly 
a  mile  and  a  half  distant,  looking  down  from  the 
end  of  the  avenue,  at  the  Barriere  de  Neuilly.  To 
the  right  and  left  are  the  marble  fronts  of  the 
Church  of  the  Madeleine  and  the  Chamber  of 
Deputies,  the  latter  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Seine.  Thus  the  groves  and  gardens  of  Paris — 
the  palace  of  her  kings — the  proud  monument 
of  her  sons'  glory — and  the  masterpieces  of 
modern  French  architecture  are  all  embraced  in 
this  one  splendid  coup  d'ceil. 

Following  the  motley  multitude  to  the  bridge, 
I  crossed  and  made  my  way  to  the  Hotel  des 
Invalides.  Along  the  esplanade,  playful  com- 
panies of  children  were  running  and  tumbling  in 
their  sports  over  the  green  turf,  which  was  ns 
fresh  as  a  meadow ;  while,  not  the  least  interest- 
ing feature  of  the  scene,  numbers  of  scarred  and 
disabled  veterans,  in  the  livery  of  the  Hospital, 
basked  in  the  sunshine,  watching  with  quiet 
satisfaction  the  gambols  of  the  second  genera- 
tion they  have  seen  arise.  What  tales  could 
they  not  tell,  those  wrinkled  and  feeble  old  men ! 
What  visions  of  Marengo  and  Austerlitz  and 
Borodino  shift  still  with  a  fiery  vividness  through 
fading  memories !  Some  may  have  left  a 


SOLDIERS  OF  THE  EMPIRE.  430 

limb  on  the  Lybian  desert ;  and  the  sabre  of  the 
Cossack  may  have  scarred  the  brows  of  oth- 
ers. They  witnessed  the  rising  and  setting  of 
that  great  meteor,  which  intoxicated  France 
with  such  a  blaze  of  power  and  glory,  and  now, 
when  the  recollection  of  that  wonderful  period 
seems  almost  like  a  stormy  dream,  they  are  left 
to  guard  the  ashes  of  their  ancient  General, 
brought  back  from  his  exile  to  rest  in  the  bosom 
of  his  own  French  people.  It  was  to  me  a 
touching  and  exciting  thing,  to  look  on  those 
whose  eyes  had  witnessed  the  filling  up  of  such  a 
fated  leaf  in  the  world's  history. 

Entrance  is  denied  to  the  tomb  of  Napoleon 
until  it  is  finished,  which  will  not  be  for  three  or 
four  years  yet.  I  went,  however,  into  the 
"Church  of  the  Banners" — a  large  chapel,  hung 
with  two  or  three  hundred  flags  taken  by  the 
armies  of  the  Empire.  The  greater  part  of  them 
were  Austrian  and  Russian.  It  appeared  to  be 
empty  when  I  entered,  but  on  looking  around,  I 
saw  an  old  gray-headed  soldier  kneeling  at  one 
side.  His  head  was  bowed  over  his  hands,  and 
he  seemed  perfectly  absorbed  in  his  thoughts. 
Perhaps  the  very  tattered  banners  which  hung 
down  motionless  above  his  head,  he  might  have 
assisted  in  conquering.  I  looked  a  moment  on 
those  eloquent  trophies,  and  then  noiselessly 
withdrew. 

There  is  at  least  one  solemn  spot  near  Paris ; 
the  laughing  win  Is  that  come  up  from  the 
merry  city  sink  into  sighs  under  the  cypress 
boughs  of  Pere  Lachaise.  And  yet  it  is  not  a 

floomy  place,  but  full  of  a  serious  beauty,  fitting 
>r  a  city  of  the  dead.  I  shall  never  forget  the 
sunny  afternoon  when  I  first  entered  its  gate  and 
walked  slowly  up  the  hill,  between  rows  of  tombs, 
gleaming  white  amid  the  heavy  foliage,  while  the 
green  turf  around  them  was  just  beginning  to 
be  starred  by  the  opening  daisies.  From  the 
little  chapel  on  its  summit  I  looked  back  at  th« 


440  VIEWS  A-fOOT. 

blue  spires  of  the  city,  whose  roar  of  life 
dwindled  to  a  low  murmur.  Countless  pyramids, 
obelisks  and  urns,  rising  far  and  wide  above  the 
cedars  and  cypresses,  showed  the  extent  of  the 
splendid  necropolis,  which  is  inhabited  by  pale, 
shrouded  emigrants  from  its  living- sister  below. 
The  only  sad  part  of  the  view,  was  the  slope  of 
the  hill  alloted  to  the  poor,  where  legions  of 
plain  black  crosses  are  drawn  up  into  solid 
squares  on  its  side  and  stand  alone  and  gloomy 
— the  advanced  guard  of  the  army  of  Death !  I 
mused  over  the  tombs  of  Moliere  and  La  Fon- 
taine; Massena,  Mortier  and  Lefebre;  General 
Foy  and  .Casimir  Perier ;  and  finally  descended 
to  the  shrine  where  Abelard  reposes  by  the  side 
of  his  Heloise.  The  old  sculptured  tomb, 
brought  away  from  the  Paraclete,  still  covers 
their  remains,  and  pious  hands  (of  lovers,  per- 
haps,) keep  fresh  the  wreaths  of  immortelles 
above  their  marble  effigies. 

In  the  Theatre  Frangais,  I  saw  Rachel,  the 
actress.  She  appeared  in  the  character  of  "Vir- 
ginia," in  a  tragedy  of  that  name,  by  the  poet 
Latour.  Her  appearance  as  she  came  upon  the 
stage  alone,  convinced  me  she  would  not  belie 
her  renown.  She  is  rather  small  in  stature,  with 
dark,  piercing  eyes  and  rich  black  hair ;  her  lips 
are  full,  but  delicately  formed,  and  her  features 
have  a  marked  yet  flexible  outline,  which  con- 
veys the  minutest  shades  of  expression.  Her 
vo'ice  is  clear,  deep  and  thrilling,  and  like  some 
grand  strain  of  music,  there  is  power  and  mean- 
ing in  its  slightest  modulations.  Her  gestures 
embody  the  very  spirit  of  the  character;  she  has 
BO  perfectly  attained  that  rare  harmony  of 
thought,  sound  and  action,  or  rather,  that  unity 
of  feeling  which  renders  them  harmonious,  that 
her  acting  seems  the  unstudied,  irrepressible  im- 
pulse of  her  soul.  With  the  first  sentence  she 
uttered,  I  forgot  Rachel.  I  only  saw  the  inno- 
tent  Roman  girl ;  I  awaited  in  suspense  and  with 


FRAGMENT  OF  THE  ILIAD.  441 

a  powerful  sympathy,  the  development  of  the 
oft-told  tragedy.  My  blood  grew  warm  with  in- 
dignation when  the  words  of  Appius  roused  her 
to  anger,  and  I  could  scarcely  keep  back  my 
tears,  when,  with  a  voice  broken  by  sobs,  she 
bade  farewell  to  the  protecting  gods  of  her 
father's  hearth. 

Among  the  bewildering  variety  of  ancient  or- 
naments and  implements  in  the  Egyptian 
Gallery  of  the  Louvre,  I  saw  an  object  of  start- 
ling interest.  A  fragment  of  the  Iliad,  written 
nearly  three  thousand  years  ago!  One  may 
even  dare  to  conjecture  that  the  torn  and  half 
mouldered  slip  of  papyrus  upon  which  he  gazes, 
may  have  been  taken  down  from  the  lips  of  the 
immortal  Chian.  The  eyes  look  on  those  faded 
characters,  and  across  the  great  gulf  of  Time, 
the  soul  leaps  into  the  Past,  brought  into 
shadowy  nearness  by  a  mirage  of  the  mind. 
There,  as  in  the  desert,  images  start  up,  vivid, 
yet  of  a  vague  and  dreamy  beauty.  We  see  the 
olive  groves  of  Greece — white-robed  youths  and 
maidens  sit  in  the  shade  of  swaying  boughs — 
and  one  of  them  reads  aloud,  in.  words  that 
sound  like  the  clashing  of  shields,  ihe  deeds  of 
Achilles. 

As  we  step  out  the  western  portal  of  the 
Tuileries,  a  beautiful  scene  greets  us.  We  look 
on  the  palace  garden,  fragrant  with  flowers  and 
classic  with  bronze  copies  of  ancient  sculpture. 
Beyond  this,  broad  gravel  walks  divide  the 
flower-bordered  lawns  and  ranks  of  marble 
demigods  and  heroes  look  down  on  the  joyous 
crowd.  Children  troll  their  hoops  along  the 
avenues  or  skip  the  rope  under  the  clipped  lin- 
dens, whose  boughs  are  now  tinged  a  pale  yellow 
by  the  bursting  buds.  The  swnns  glide  about 
on  a  pond  in  the  centre,  begging  bread  of  the 
bystanders,  who  watch  n  miniature  .ship  which 
the  soft  breeze  carries  steadily  across.  Paris  is 
but  heard,  on  every  side;  only 


442  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

Column  of  Luxor  and  the  Arc  de  Triomphe  rise 
blue  and  grand  above  the  top  of  the  forest. 
What  with  the  sound  of  voices,  the  merry 
laughter  of  the  children  and  a  host  of  smiling 
faces,  the  scene  touches  a  happy  chord  in  one's 
heart,  and  he  mingles  with  it,  lost  in  pleasant 
reverie,  till  the  sounds  fade  away  with  the  fading 
light. 

Just  below  the  Baths  of  the  Louvre,  there  are 
several  floating  barges  belonging  to  the  washer- 
women, anchored  at  the  foot  of  the  great  stone 
staircase  leading  down  to  the  water.  They 
stand  there  day  after  day,  beating  their  clothes 
upon  flat  boards  and  rinsing  them  in  the  Seine. 
One  day  there  seemed  to  have  been  a  wedding 
or  some  other  cause  of  rejoicing  among  them, 
for  a  large  number  of  the  youngest  were  talking 
in  great  glee  on  one  of  the  platforms  of  the 
staircase,  while  a  handsome,  German-looking 
youth  stood  near,  with  a  guitar  slung  around 
his  neck.  He  struck  up  a  lively  air,  and  the 
girls  fell  into  a  droll  sort  of  a  dance.  They  went 
at  it  heavily  and  roughly  enough,  but  made  up 
in  good  humor  what  they  lacked  in  grace;  the 
older  members  of  the  craft  looked  up  from  their 
work  with  satisfaction  and  many  shouts  of  ap- 
plause wrere  sent  down  to  them  from  the  specta- 
tors on  the  Quai  and  the  Pont  Xeuf.  Not  con- 
tent with  this,  they  seized  on  some  luckless  men 
who  were  descending  the  steps,  and  clasping 
them  with  their  powerful  right  arms,  spun  them 
around  like  so  many  tops  and  sent  them  whiz- 
zing off  at  a  tangent.  Loud  bursts  of  laughter 
greeted  this  performance,  and  the  stout  river- 
maidens  returned  to  their  dance  with  redoubled 
spirit. 

Yesterday,  the  famous  procession  of  the 
"bceufgras"  took  place  for  the  second  time, 
with  great  splendor.  The  order  of  march  had 
been  duly  announced  beforehand,  and  by  noon 
all  the  streets  and  squares  through  which  it  was 


THE  CARNIVAL  tti  PARTS.  443 

to  pass,  were  crowded  with  waiting  spectators. 
Mounted  gens  d'armes  rode  constantly  to  and 
fro,  to  direct  the  passage  of  vehicles  and  keep 
an  open  thoroughfare.  Thousands  of  country 
peasants  poured  into  the  city,  the  boys  of  whom 
were  seen  in  all  directions,  blowing  distressingly 
through  hollow  ox-horns.  Altogether,  the 
spirit  of  nonsense  which  animated  the  crowd, 
displayed  itself  very  amusingly. 

A  few  mounted  guards  led  the  procession,  fol- 
lowed by  a  band  of  music.  Then  appeared  Ro- 
man lictors  and  officers  of  sacrifice,  leading 
Dagobert,  the  famous  bull  of  Normandy,  des- 
tined to  the  honor  of  being  slaughtered  as  the 
Carnival  beef.  He  trod  rather  tenderly,  finding, 
no  doubt,  a  difference  between  the  meadows  of 
Caen  and  the  pavements  of  Paris,  and  I  thought 
he  would  have  been  willing  to  forego  his  gilded 
horns  and  flowery  crown,  to  get  back  there 
again.  His  weight  was  said  to  be  four  thousand 
pounds,  and  the  bills  pompously  declared  that 
he  had  no  rival  in  France,  except  the  elephant 
in  the  Jar  din  des  Plant  es. 

After  him  came  the  farmer  by  whom  he  was 
raised,  and  M.  Roland,  the  butcher  of  the  carni- 
val, followed  by  a  hundred  of  the  same  craft, 
dressed  as  cavaliers  of  the  different  ages  of 
France.  They  made  a  very  showy  appearance, 
although  the  faded  velvet  and  soiled  tinsel  of 
their  mantles  were  rather  too  apparent  by  day- 
light. 

After  all  these  had  gone  by,  came  an  enormous 
triumphal  car,  very  profusely  covered  with  gild 
ing  and  ornamental  flowers.  A  fellow  with  long 
woollen  hair  and  beard,  intended  to  represent 
Time,  acted  as  driver.  In  the  car,  under  a  gilded 
canopy,  reposed  a  number  of  persons,  in  blue 
silk  smocks  and  yellow  "flesh-tights, "said  to  be 
Venus,  Apollo,  the  Graces,  &c.,  but  I  endeavored 
in  vain  to  distinguish  one  divinity  from  another. 
However,  three  children  OH  the  back  seat,  dressed 


444  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

• 

in  the  same  style,  with  the  addition  of  longflaxy 
ringlets,  made  very  passable  Cupids.  This  closed 
the  march ;  which  passed  onward  towards  the 
Place  de  la  Concorde,  accompanied  by  the 
sounds  of  music  and  the  shouts  of  the  mob. 
The  broad,  splendid  line  of  Boulevards,  which 
describe  a  semi-circle  around  the  heart  of  the 
city,  were  crowded,  and  for  the  whole  distance  of 
three  miles,  it  required  no  slight  labor  to  make 
one's  way.  People  in  masks  and  fancy  costumes 
were  continually  passing  and  repassing,  and  I 
detected  in  more  than  one  of  the  carriages, 
cheeks  rather  too  fair  to  suit  the  slouched  hun- 
iter's  hats  which  shaded  them.  It  seemed  as  if 
all  Paris  was  taking  a  holiday,  and  resolved  to 
make  the  most  of  it. 


CHAPTER  XLYI. 

A  GLIMPSE  OF  NORMANDY. 

After  a  residence  of  five  weeks,  which,  in  spite 
of  some  few  troubles,  passed  away  quickly  and 
delightfully,  I  turned  my  back  on  Paris,  ft  was 
not  regret  I  experienced  on  taking  my  seat  in 
the  cars  for  Versailles,  but  that  feeling  of  reluc- 
tance with  which  we  leave  places  whose  brightness 
and  gaiety  force  the  mind  away  from  serious 
toil.  Steam,  however,  cuts  short  all  sentiment, 
and  in  much  less  time  than  it  takes  to  bid  fare- 
well to  a  German,  we  had  whizzed  past  the  Place 
d'Europe,  through  the  barrier,  and  were  watch- 
ing the  spires  start  up  from  the  receding  city,  on 
the  way  to  St.  Cloud. 

At  Versailles  I  spent  three  hours  in  a  hasty 
walk  through  the  palace,  which  allowed  but  a 
bare  glance  at  the  gorgeous  paintings  of  Horace 


WALKING  IN  NORMANDT.  448 

Vernet.  His  "Taking  of  Constantino"  has  the 
vivid  look  of  reality.  The  white  houses  shine  in 
the  sun,  and  from  the  bleached  earth  to  the  blue 
and  dazzling-  sky,  there  seems  to  hang  a  heavy, 
scorching  atmosphere.  The  white  smoke  of  the 
artillery  curls  almost  visibly  off  the  canvas,  and 
the  cracked  and  half-sprung  walls  look  as  if 
about  to  topple  down  on  the  besiegers.  One 
series  of  halls  is  devoted  to  the  illustration  of 
the  knightly  chronicles  of  France,  from  the  days 
of  Charlemagne  to  those  of  Bayard  and  Gaston 
de  Foix.  Among  these  pictured  legends,  I  looked 
with  the  deepest  interest  on  that  of  the  noble 
girl  of  Orleans.  Her  countenance — the  same  in 
all  these  pictures  and  in  a.  beautiful  statue  of  her, 
which  stands  in  one  of  the  corridors — is  said  to 
be  copied  from  an  old  and  well-authenticated 
portrait.  United  to  the  sweetness  and  purity  of 
peasant  beauty,  she  has  the  lofty  brow  and  in- 
spired expression  of  a  prophetess.  There  is  a 
soft  light  in  her  full  blue  eye  that  does  not  belong 
to  earth.  I  wonder  not  the  soldiery  deemed  her 
chosen  by  God  to  lead  them  to  successful  battle ; 
had  I  lived  in  those  times  I  could  have  followed 
her  consecrated  banner  to  the  ends  of  the  earth. 
In  the  statue,  she  stands  musing,  with  her  head 
drooping  forward,  as  if  the  weight  of  the  breast- 
plate oppressed  her  woman's  heart;  the  melan- 
choly soul  which  shines  through  the  marble 
seems  to  forebode  the  fearful  winding-up  of  her 
eventful  destiny. 

The  afternoon  was  somewhat  advanced,  by 
the  time  I  had  seen  the  palace  and  gardens. 
After  a  hurried  dinner  at  a  restaurant,  I  shoul- 
dered my  knapsack  and  took  the  road  to  St. 
Germain.  The  day  was  gloomy  and  cheerless,  and 
I  should  have  felt  very  lonely  but  for  the  thought 
of  soon  reaching  England.  There  is  no  time  of 
the  year  more  melancholy  than  a  cold,  cloudy 
day  in  March ;  whatever  may  be^the  beauties  of 
pedestrian  travelling  in  fairer  seasons,  my  experv 


446  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

ence  dictates  that  during  winter  storms  and 
March  glooms,  it  had  better  be  dispensed  with. 
However,  I  pushed  on  to  St.  Germain,  threaded 
its  long  streets,  looked  down  from  the  height 
over  its  magnificent  tract  of  forest  and  turned 
westward  down  the  Seine.  Owing  to  the  scanti- 
ness of  villages,  I  was  obliged  to  walk  an  hour 
and  a  half  m  the  wind  and  darkness,  before  I 
reached  a  solitary  inn.  As  I  opened  the  door 
and  asked  for  lodging,  the  landlady  enquired  if 
I  had  the  necessary  papers.  I  answered  in  th« 
affirmative  and  was  admitted.  While  I  was 
eating  supper,  they  prepared  their  meal  on  the 
other  end  of  the  small  table  and  sat  down 
together.  They  fell  into  the  error,  so  common 
to  ignorant  persons,  of  thinking  a  foreigner 
could  not  understand  them,  and  began  talking 
quite  unconcernedly  about  me.  "  Why  don't  ho 
take  the  railroad?"  said  the  old  man:  "he  musj: 
have  very  little  money — it  would  be  bad  for  us 
if  he  had  none."  "Oh!"  remarked  his  son,  "if 
he  had  none,  he  would  not  be  sitting  there  so 
quiet  and  unconcerned."  I  thought  there  was 
some  knowledge  of  human  nature  in  this  remark. 
"And  besides,  added  the  landlady,  "there  is  no 
danger  for  us,  for  we  have  his  passport."  Of 
course  I  enjoyed  this  in  secret,  and  mentally 
pardoned  their  suspicions,  when  I  reflected  that 
the  high  roads  between  Paris  and  London  are 
frequented  by  many  impostors,  which  makes  the 
people  naturally  mistrustful.  I  walked  all  the 
next  day  through  a  beautiful  and  richly  culti- 
vated country.  The  early  fruit  trees  were 
bursting  into  bloom,  and  the  farmers  led  out 
their  cattle  to  pasturage  in  the  fresh  meadows. 
The  scenery  must  be  delightful  in  summer — 
worthy  of  all  that  has  been  said  or  sung  about 
Normandy.  On  the  morning  of  the  third  day, 
before  reaching  Rouen,  I  saw  at  a  distance  tho 
remains  of  Chateau  Galliard,  the  favorite  Castlft 
of  Richard  Cceur  de  Lion.  Rouen  breath** i 


LAST  DAT  ON  THE  CONTINENT.        447 

everywhere  of  the  ancient  times  of  Nor- 
mandy. Nothing  can  be  more  picturesque  than 
its  quaint,  irregular  wooden  houses,  and  the  low, 
mossy  mills,  spanning  the  clear  streams  which 
rush  through  its  streets.  The  Cathedral,  with 
its  four  towers,  rises  from  among  the  clustered 
cottages  like  a  giant  rock,  split  by  the  lightning 
and  worn  by  the  rains  of  centuries  into  a 
thousand  fantastic  shapes. 

Resuming  my  walk  in  the  afternoon,  I  climbed 
the  heights  west  of  the  city,  and  after  passing 
through  a  suburb  four  or  five  miles  in  length, 
entered  the  vale  of  the  Cailly.  This  is  one  of  the 
sweetest  scenes  in  France.  It  lies  among  the 
woody  hills  like  a  Paradise,  with  its  velvet 
meadows  and  villas  and  breathing  gardens. 
The  grass  was  starred  with  daisies  and  if  I  took 
a  step  into  the  oak  and  chestnut  woods,  I 
trampled  on  thousands  of  anemones  and 
fragrant  daffodils.  The  upland  plain,  stretching 
inward  from  the  coast,  wears  a  different  char- 
acter. As  I  ascended,  towards  evening,  and 
Avalked  over  its  monotonous  swells,  I  felt  almost 
homesick  beneath  5ts  saddening  influence.  The 
sun,  hazed  over  with  dull  clouds,  gave  out  that 
cold  and  lifeless  light  which  is  more  lonely  than 
complete  darkness.  The  wind,  sweeping  dis- 
mally over  the  fields,  sent  clouds  of  blinding 
dust  down  the  road,  and  as  it  passed  through 
the  forests,  the  myriads  of  fine  twigs  sent  up  a 
sound  as  deep  and  grand  as  the  roar  of  a  roused 
ocean.  Every  chink  of  the  Norman  cottage 
where  I  slept,  whistled  most  drearily,  and  as  I 
looked  out  the  little  window  of  my  room,  the  trees 
were  swaying  in  the  gloom,  and  long,  black  clouds 
scudded  across  the  sky.  Though  my  bed  was 
poor  and  hard,  it  was  a  sublime  sound  that 
cradled  me  into  slumber.  Homer  might  have 
used  it  as  the  lullaby  of  Jove. 

My  last  day  on  the  continent  came.  I  rose 
early  and  walked  over  the  hills  toward  Dieppe. 


448  VIE  WS  A-FO  O  T. 

The  scenery  grew  more  bleak  as  I  approached 
the  sea,  but  the  low  and  sheltered  valleys 
preserved  the  pastoral  look  of  the  interior.  In 
the  afternoon,  as  I  climbed  a  long,  elevated 
ridge,  over  which  a  strong  northwester  was 
blowing,  I  was  struck  with  a  beautiful  rustic 
church,  in  one  of  the  dells  below  me.  While 
admiring  its  neat  tower  I  had  gained  uncon- 
sciously the  summit  of  the  hill,  and  on  turning 
suddenly  around,  lo!  there  was  the  glorious  old 
Atlantic  stretching  far  before  and  around  me! 
A  shower  was  sweeping  mistily  along  the  horizon 
and  I  could  trace  the  white  line  of  the  breakers 
that  foamed  at  the  foot  of  the  cliffs.  The  scene 
came  over  me  like  a  vivid  electric  shock,  and  I 
gave  an  involuntary  shout,  which  might  have 
been  heard  in  all  the  valleys  around.  After  a 
year  and  a  half  of  wandering  over  the  continent, 
that  gray  ocean  was  something  to  be  revered 
and  loved,  for  it  clasped  the  shores  of  my  native 
America. 

I  entered  Dieppe  in  a  heavy  shower,  and  after 
finding  an  inn  suited  to  my  means  and  obtain- 
ing a  permis  d 'embarquement  from  the  police 
office,  I  went  out  to  the  battlements  and  looked 
again  on  the  sea.  The  landlord  promised  to  call 
me  in  time  for  the  boat,  but  my  anxiety  waked 
me  sooner,  and  mistaking  the  strokes  of  the  ca- 
thedral bell,  I  shouldered  my  knapsack  and  went 
down  to  the  wharf  at  one  o'clock.  No  one  was 
stirring  on  board  the  boat,  and  I  was  obliged  to 
pace  the  silent,  gloomy  streets  of  the  town  for 
two  hours.  1  watched  the  steamer  glide  out  on 
the  rainy  channel,  and  turning  into  the  topmost 
berth,  drew  the  sliding  curtain  and  strove  to 
keep  out  cold  and  sea-sickness.  But  it  was  una- 
vailing; a  heavy  storm  of  snow  and  rain  ren- 
dered our  passage  so  dreary  that  I  did  not  stir 
until  we  were  approaching  the  chain  pier  at 
Brighton. 

I  looked  out  on  the  foggy  shores  of  England 


AGAIN  IN  L OND ON.  449 

•with  a  feeling  of  relief;  my  tongue  would  now  be 
freed  from  the  difficult  bondage  of  foreign  lan- 
guages, and  my  ears  be  rejoiced  with  the  music 
of  my  own.  After  two  hours'  delay  at  the  Cus- 
tom House,  I  took  my  seat  in  an  open  car  for 
London.  The  day  was  dull  and  cold;  the  sun 
resembled  a  milky  blotch  in  the  midst  of  a  leaden 
sky.  I  sat  and  shivered,  as  we  flew  onward, 
amid  the  rich,  cultivated  English  scenery.  At 
last  the  fog  grew  thicker ;  the  road  was  carried 
over  the  tops  of  houses;  the  familiar  dome  of 
St.  Paul's  stood  out  above  the  spires ;  and  I  was 
again  in  London ! 


CHAPTER  XLVIL 

LOCKHART,  BERNARD  BARTON  AND  CROLY — LONDON 
CHIMES  AND  GREENWICH  FAIR. 

My  circumstances,  on  arriving  at  London, 
were  again  very  reduced.  A  franc  and  a  half 
constituted  the  whole  of  my  funds.  This,  joined 
to  the  knowledge  of  London  expenses,  rendered 
instant  exertion  necessary,  to  prevent  still 
greater  embarrassment.  I  called  on  a  printer 
the  next  morning,  hoping  to  procure  work,  but 
found,  as  I  had  no  documents  with  me  to  show 
I  had  served  a  regular  up]  trei  iliceship,  this  would 
be  extremely  difficult,  although  workmen  were 
in  great  demand.  Mr.  Putnam,  however,  on 
whom  I  had  previously  called,  gave  me  employ- 
ment for  a  time  in  his  publishing  establishment, 
and  thus  I  was  fortunalely  enabled  to  await  the 
arrival  of  a  remittance  from  home. 

Mrs.  Trollope,  whom  I  met  in  Florence,  kindly 
«ave  me  a  letter  to  Murray,  the  publisher,  and  J 


450  VIEWS   A- FOOT. 

visited  him  soon  after  my  arrival.  In  his  library 
I  saw  the  original  portraits  of  Byron,  Moore, 
Campbell,  and  the  other  authors  who  were  inti- 
mate with  him  and  his  father.  A  day  or  two  af- 
terwards I  had  the  good  fortune  to  breakfast 
with  Lockhart  and  Bernard  Barton,  at  the 
house  of  the  former.  Mr.  Murray,  through 
whom  the  invitation  was  given,  accompanied 
me  there.  As  it  was  late  when  we  arrived  at 
Regent's  Park,  we  found  them  waiting,  and  sat 
down  immediately  to  breakfast. 

I  was  much  pleased  with  Lockhart 's  appear- 
ance and  manners.  He  has  a.  noble,  manly 
countenance — in  fact,  the  handsomest  English 
face  I  ever  saw — a  quick,  dark  e}*e  and  an  ample 
forehead,  shaded  by  locks  which  show,  as  yet, 
but  few  threads  of  gray.  There  is  a  peculiar 
charm  in  his  rich,  soft  voice ;  especially  when  re- 
citing poetry,  it  has  a  clear,  organ-like  vibration, 
which  thrills  deliciously  on  the  ear.  His  daugh- 
ter, who  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  is  a  most 
lovely  and  amiable  girl. 

Bernard  Barton,  who  is  now  quite  an  old  man, 
is  a  very  lively  and  sociable  Friend.  His  head  is 
gray  and  almost  bald,  but  there  is  still  plenty 
of  fire  in  his  e3Tes  and  life  in  his  limbs.  His  many 
kind  and  amiable  qualities  endear  him  to  a  large 
circle  of  literary  friends.  He  still  continues  writ- 
ing, and  within  the  last  year  has  brought  out  a 
volume  of  simple,  touching  "Household  Verses." 
A  picture  of  cheerful  and  contented  old  age  has 
never  been  more  briefly  and  beautifully  drawn, 
than  in  the  following  lines,  which  he  sent  me, 
in  answer  to  my  desire  to  possess  one  of  his 
poems  in  his  own  hand : 

STANZAS. 

I  feel  that  I  am  growing  old, 

Nor  wish  to  hide  that  truth; 
Conscious  my  heart  is  not  more  cold 

Than  in  my  by -gone  youtfa. 


BERNARD  BARTON.  451 

I  cannot  roam  the  country  round, 

As  I  was  wont  to  do; 
My  feet  a  scantier  circle  bound, 

My  eyes  a  narrower  view. 

But  on  my  mental  vision  rise 

Bright  scenes  of  beauty  still: 
Morn's  splendor,  evening's  glowing  skies, 

Valley,  and  grove  and  hill. 

Nor  can  infirmities  o'erwhelm 

The  purer  pleasures  brought 
From  the  immortal  spirit's  realm 

Of  Feeling  and  of  Thought! 

My  heart!  let  not  dismay  or  doubt 

In  thee  an  entrance  win! 
Thou  hast  enjoyed  thyself  without — 

Now  seek  thy  joy  within! 

During  breakfast  he  related  to  us  a  pleasant 
anecdote  of  Scott.  He  once  wrote  to  the  poet  in 
behalf  of  a  young  lady,  who  wished  to  have  the 
description  of  Melrose,  in  the  ''Lay  of  tlr  last 
Minstrel,"  in  the  poet's  own  writing.  Scott  sent 
it,  but  added  these  lines  to  the  conclusion : 

"Then  go,  and  muse  with  deepest  awe 
On  what  the  writer  never  saw; 
Who  would  not  wander  'neath  the  moon 
To  see  what  he  could  see  at  noon! " 

We  went  afterwards  into  Lockhart's  library, 
which  was  full  of  interesting  objects.  I  saw  the 
private  diary  of  Scott,  kept  until  within  a  short 
time  of  his  death.  It  was  melancholy  to  trace 
the  gradual  failing  of  all  his  energies  in  uhe  very 
wavering  of  the  autograph.  In  a  large  volume 
of  his  correspondence,  containing  letters  from 
Campbell,  Wordsworth,  Byron,  and  all  the  dis- 
tinguished characters  of  the  age.  I  saw  Camp- 
bell's "  Battle  of  the  Baltic  "  in  his  own  hand.  I 
was  highly  interested  and  gratified  with  tlm 
whole  visit;  the  more  so,  as  Mr.  Lockharl  had 
invited  me  voluntarily,  without  previous  ac- 
quaintance. I  have  since  heard  him  spoken  of 
in  the  highest  terms  of  esteem. 


452  VIEWS   A- FOOT. 

Iwent  one  Sunday  to  the  Church  of  St.  Stephen, 
to  hear  Croly,  the  poet.  The  service,  rend  by  ;i 
drowsy  clerk,  was  long  arid  monotonous;  J  sat 
in  a  side-aisle,  looking  up  at  the  dome,  and  lis- 
tening to  the  rain  which  dashed  in  torrents 
.  against  the  window-panes.  At  last,  a  tall,  gray- 
haired  man  came  down  the  passage.  He  bowed 
Avith  a  sad  smile,  so  full  of  benevolence  and  resig- 
nation, that  it  went  into  my  heart  at  once,  and 
I  gave  him  an  involuntary  tribute  of  sympathy. 
He  has  a  heavy  affliction  to  bear — the  death  of 
his  gallant  son,  one  of  the  officers  who  were 
slain  in  the  late  battle  of  Ferozeshaw.  His  whole 
manner  betrays  the  tokens  of  subdued  but  con- 
stant grief. 

His  sermon  was  peculiarly  finished  and  appro- 
priate; the  language  was  clear  and  forcible, 
without  that  splendor  of  thought  and  dazzling 
vividness  of  imagery  which  mark  ''  Salathiel. 
Yet  I  could  not  help  noticing  that  he  delighted 
to  dwell  on  the  spiritualities  of  religion,  rather 
than  its  outward  obsarvances,  \vhich  ho  seemed 
inclined  to  hurry  over  as  lightly  as  possible.  His 
mild,  gray  eye  and  lofty  foreh'epd  are  more  like 
the  benevolent  divine  than  the  poet.  I  thought 
of  Salathiel,  and  looked  t  the  dignified,  sorrow- 
ful man  before  me.  r^he  picture  of  the  accursed 
Judean  vanished,  and  his  own  solemn  lines  rang 
on  my  ear : 

"  The  mighty  grave 

Wraps  lord  and  slave, 
Nor  pride,  nor  poverty  dares  come 
Within  that  prison-house,  that  tomb  !" 

Whenever  I  hear  thorn,  or  think  of  them  again, 
I  shall  see,  in  memory,  Croly's  calm,  pale  coun- 
tenance. 

"The  chimes,  the  chimes  of  Mother-land, 

Of  England,  green  and  old  ; 
That  out  from  thane  and  ivied  tower 
A  thousand  years  have  tolled  I" 


THE  CHIMES  OF  LONDON.  453 

I  often  thought  of  Coxe's  beautiful  ballad, 
when,  after  a  day  spent  in  Waterloo  Place,  I 
have  listened,  on  my  way  homeward,  to  the 
chimes  of  Mary-le-bone  Chapel,  sounding  sweetly 
and  clearly  above  all  the  din  of  the  Strand. 
There  is  something  in  their  silvery  vibration, 
which  is  far  more  expressive  than  the  ordinary 
tones  of  a  bell.  The  ear  becomes  weary  of  a 
continued  toll — the  sound  of  some  bells  seems 
to  have  nothing  more  in  it  than  the  ordinary 
clang  of  metal — but  these  simple  notes,  following 
one  another  so  melodiously,  fall  on  the  ear, 
stunned  by  the  ceaseless  roar  of  carriages  or 
the  mingled  cries  of  the  mob,  as  gently  and 
gratefully  as  drops  of  dew.  Whether  it  be  morn- 
ing, and  they  ring  put  louder  and  deeper  through 
the  mist,  or  midnight,  when  the  vast  ocean  of 
being  beneath  them  surges  less  noisily  than  its 
wont,  they  are  alike  full  of  melody  and  poetry. 
I  have  often  paused,  deep  in  the  night,  to  hear 
those  clear  tones,  dropping  down  from  the  dark- 
ness, thrilling,  with  their  full,  tremulous  sweet- 
ness, the  still  air  of  the  lighted  Strand,  and 
winding  away  through  dark,  silent  lanes  and 
solitary  courts,  till  the  ear  of  the  care-worn 
watcher  is  scarcely  stirred  with  their  dying  vi- 
brations. They  seemed  like  those  spirit-voices, 
which,  at  such  times,  speak  almost  audibly  to 
the  heart.  How  delicious  it  must  be,  to  those 
who  dwell  within  the  limits  of  their  sound,  to 
wake  from  some  happy  dream  and  hear  those 
chimes  blending  in  witn  their  midnight  fancies, 
like  the  musical  echo  of  the  promised  bliss.  I 
love  these  eloquent  bells,  and  I  think  there  n;i;st 
be  many,  living  out  a  life  of  misery  and  sufTrr- 
ing,  to  whom  their  tones  come  with  an  nlmr;  ( 
human  consolation.  The  natures  of  the  very 
cockneys,  who  never  go  without  the  horizon  of 
their  vibrations,  is,  to  my  mind,  invested  with 
one  hue  of  poetry ! 

A  few  days  ago,  an  American  friend  invited  me 


454  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

to  accompany  him  to  Greenwich  Fair.  We  took 
a  penny  steamer  from  Hunger-ford  Market  to 
London  Bridge,  and  jumped  into  the  cars,  which 
go  every  five  minutes.  Twelve  minutes'  ride 
above  the  chimneys  of  London  and  the  vegeta- 
ble-fields of  Rotherhithe  and  Deptford  brought 
us  to  Greenwich,  and  we  followed  the  stream  of 
people  which  was  flowing  from  all  parts  of  the 
city  into  the  Park. 

jftere  began  the  merriment.  We  heard  on 
every  side  the  noise  of  the  "scratchers,"  or,  as 
the  venders  of  these  articles  denominated  them— 
"the  fun  of  the  fair."  By  this  is  meant  a  little 
notched  wheel,  with  a  piece  of  wood  fastened  on 
it,  like  a  miniature  watchman's  rattle.  The 
"fun"  consists  in  drawing  them  down  the  back 
of  any  one  you  pass,  when  they  make  a  sound 
precisely  like  that  of  ripping  cloth.  The  women 
take  great  delight  in  this,  and  as  it  is  only 
deemed  politeness  to  return  the  compliment,  we 
soon  had  :nough  to  do.  Nobody  seemed  to 
take  the  diversion  amiss,  but  it  was  so  irresist- 
ibly droll  to  see  a  large  crowd  engaged  in  this 
singular  amusement,  that  we  both  burst  into 
hearty  laughter. 

As  we  began  ascending  Greenwich  Hill,  we 
were  assailed  with  another  kind  of  game.  The 
ground  was  covered  with  smashed  oraiiges,with 
which  the  people  above  and  below  were  stoutly 
pelting  each  other.  Half  a  dozen  heavy  ones 
whizzed  uncomfortably  near  my  head  as  I  went 
up,  and  I  saw  several  persons  get  the  full  benefit 
of  a  shot  on  their  backs  and  breasts.  The 
young  country  lads  and  lasses  amused  them- 
selves by  running  at  full  speed  down  the  steep 
side  of  a  hill.  This  was,  however,  a  feat  at- 
tended with  some  risk;  for  I  saw  one  luckless 
girl  describe  an  arc  of  a  circle,  of  which  her  feet 
was  the  centre  and  her  body  the  radius.  All  was 
noise  and  nonsen.;j.  They  ran  to  and  fro  under 
the  long,  hoary  boughs  of  the  venerable  oaks 


GREENWICH  FAIR.  453 

that  crest  the  summit,  and  clattered  down  the 
magnificent  forest-avenues,  whose  budding  foli- 
age gave  them  little  shelter  from  the  passing 
April  showers. 

The  viow  from  the  topis  splendid.  The  stately 
Thames  curves  through  the  plain  below,  which 
loses  itself  afar  off  in  the  mist;  Greenwich,  with 
its  massive  hospital,  lies  ju-t  at  one's  feet,  and 
in  a  clear  day  the  domes  of  London  skirt  the 
horizon.  The  wood  of  the  Park  is  entirely  oak 
—the  majestic,  dignified,  English  oak— which 
covers,  in  picturesque  clumps,  the  sides  and 
summits  of  the  two  billowy  hills.  It  must  be  a 
sweet  place  in  summer  when  the  dark,  massive 
foliage  is  heavy  on  every  mossy  arm,  and  the 
smooth  and  curving  sward  shines  with  thou- 
sands  of  field-flowers. 

Owing  to  the  showers,  the  streets  were  coated 
with  mud,  of  a  consistence  as  soft  and  yielding 
as  the  most  fleecy  Persian  carpet.  Nearthe  gate, 
boys  were  holding  scores  of  donkeys,  which  they 
offered  us  at  threepence  for  a  ride  of  two  miles. 
We  walked  down  towards  the  river,  and  came  at 
last  to  a  group  of  tumblers,  who  with  muddy 
hands  and  feet  were  throwing  somersets  in  the 
open  street.  I  recognized  them  as  old  acquaint- 
ances of  the  Rue  St.  Antoine  and  the  Champs 
Ely  sees;  but  the  little  boy  who  cried  before,  be- 
cause he  did  not  wan,t  to  bend  his  head  and  feet 
into  a  ring,  like  a  hoop-snake,  had  learned  his 
part  better  by  this  time,  so  that  he  went  through 
it  all  without  whimpering  and  came  off  with 
only  a  fiery  red  face.  The  exercises  of  the  young 
gentlemen  were  of  course  very  graceful  and 
classic,  and  the  effect  of  their  posps  of  strength 
was  very  much  heightened  by  the  muddy  foot- 
marks which  they  left  on  each  other's  orange- 
colored  ski  . 

The  avenue  of  booths  was  still  more  diverting. 
Here  under  sheds  of  leaky  awning,  were  exposed 
for  sale  rows  of  gilded  gingerbread  kings  and 


456  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

queens,  and  I  cannot  remember  how  many  men 
and  women  held  me  fast  by  the  arms,  deter- 
mined  to  force  me  into  buying  a  pound  of  them. 
We  paused  at  the  sign:  "SiGNOR  URBAM'S 
GRAND  MAGICAL  DISPLAY."  The  title  was  at- 
tractive, so  we  paid  the  penny  admission,  and 
walked  behind  the  dark,  mysterious  curtain. 
Two  bare  brick  walls,  three  benches  and  a  little 
boy  appeared  to  us.  A  sheet  hung  before  us 
upon  which  quivered  the  shadow'  of  some  terri- 
ble head.  At  my  friend's  command,  tho  boy 
(also  a  spectator)  put  out  the  light,  wrhen  the 
awful  and  grinning  face  of  a  black  woman  be- 
came visible.  While  we  were  admiring  this  strik- 
ing production,  thus  mysteriously  revealed,  Sig- 
nor  Urban!  came  in,  and  seeing  no  hope  of  any 
more  spectators,  went  behind  the  curtain  and 
startled  our  sensitive*  nerves  with  six  or  seven 
skeleton  and  devil  apparitions,  winding  up  the 
wonderful  entertainment  with  the  same  black 
head.  We  signified  our  entire  approbation  by 
due  applause  and  then  went  out  to  seek  further 
novelties. 

The  centre  of  the  square  was  occupied  by 
swings,  where  some  eight  or  t^n  boat-loads  of 
persons  were  flying  topsy-turA'y  into  the  air, 
making  one  giddy  to  look  at  them,  and  constant 
fearful  shrieks  arose  from  the  lady  swingers,  at 
finding  themselves  in  a  horizontal  or  inverted 
position,  high  above  the  ground.  One  of  the 
machines  was  like  a  great  wheel,  Avith  four  <-;irs 
attached,  which  mounted  and  descended  with 
their  motley  freight.  We  got  into  the  boat  by 
way  of  experiment.  The  staiting  motion  .vas 
pleasant,  but  very  soon  it  flew  with  a  swiftness 
and  to  a  height  rather  alarming.  I  began  to  re- 
pent having  chosen  such  a  mode  of  amusement, 
but  held  on  as  well  as  I  could,  in  my  uneasy 
place.  Present!}-  we  mounted  till  the  long  beam 
of  our  boat  was  horizontal ;  at  one  instant,  I 
saw  three  young  ladies  below  me,  with  their 


A  LONDON  FOG.  467 

heads  downward,  like  a  shadow  in  the  water — 
the  next  J  was  turned  heels  up,  looking  at  them 
as  a  shadow  does  at  its  original.  I  was  fast  be- 
coming sea-sick,  when,  after  a  few  minutes  of  such 
giddy  soaring,  the  ropes  were  slackened  and  we 
all  got  out,  looking  somewhat  pale  and  feeling 
nervous,  if  nothing  else. 

There  were  also  many  great  tents,  hung  with 
boughs  and  lighted  with  innumerable  colored 
lamps,  where  the  people  danced  their  country 
dances  in  achoking  cloud  of  dry  saw-dust.  Con- 
jurors and  gymnastic  performers  were  showing 
off  on  conspicuous  platforms,  and  a  continual 
sound  of  drums,  cymbals  and  shrill  trumpets 
called  the  attention  of  the  crowd  to  some"  Won- 
derful Exhibition" — some  infant  phenomenon, 
giant,  or  three-headed  pig.  A  great  part  of  the 
crowd  belonged  evidently  to  the. very  worst  part 
of  society,  but  the  watchfulness  of- the  police 
prevented  any  open  disorder.  "We  came  away 
early  and  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  were  in  busy 
London,  leaving  far  behind  us  the  revel  and  de- 
bauch, which  was  prolonged  through  the  whole 
night. 

London  has  the  advantage  of  one  of  the  most 
gloomy  atmospheres  in  the  world.  During  this 
opening  spring  weather,  no  light  and  scarcely 
any  warmth  can  penetrate  the  dull,  yellowish- 

f  ray  mist,  which  incessantly  h a ngs  over  the  city, 
ometimes  at  noon  we  have  for  an  hour  or  two 
a  sickly  gleam  of  sunshine,  but  it  is  soon  swal- 
lowed up  by  the  smoke  and  drizzling  fog.  The 
people  carry  umbrellas  at  all  times,  for  the  rain 
seems  to  drop  spontaneously  out  of  the  yer3r  air, 
without  waiting  for  the  usual  preparation  of  a 
gathering  cloud.  Professor  Espy's  rules  would 
be  of  little  avail  here. 

A  few  days  ago  we  had  a  real  fog — a  specimen 
of  November  weather,  as  the  people  said.  If 
November  wears  such  a  mantle,  London,  during 
that  sober  month,  must  furnish  a  good  idea  of 


458  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

the  gloom  of  Hades.  The  streets  were  wrapped 
in  a  veil  of  dense  mist,  of  a  dirty  yellow  color, 
as  if  the  air  had  suddenly  grown  thick  and 
mouldy.  The  houses  on  the  opposite  sides  of  the 
street  were  invisible,  and  the  gas-lamps,  lighit-d 
in  the  shops,  burned  with  a  white  and  ghastly 
flame.  Carriages  ran  together  in  the  streets, 
and  I  was  kept  constantly  on  the  look-out,  lest 
some  one  should  come  suddenly  out  of  the  cloud 
around  me,  and  we  should  meet  with  a  shock 
like  that  of  two  knights  at  a  tournament.  As  1 
stood  in  the  centre  of  Trafalgar  Square,  with 
every  object  invisible  around  me,  it  reminded  me, 
(hoping  the  comparison  will  not  be  accepted  in 
every  particular)  of  Satan  resting  in  the  middle 
of  Chaos.  The  weather  sometimes  continues 
thus  for  whole  days  together. 

April  26. — An  hour  and  a  half  of  land  are  still 
allowed  us,  and  then  we  shall  set  foot  on  the 
back  of  the  oak-ribbed  leviathan,  which  will  be 
our  home  until  a  thousand  leagues  of  blue  ocean 
are  crossed.  I  shall  hear  the  old  Aldgatc  clock 
strike  for  the  last  time — I  shall  take  a  last  walk 
through  the  Miiiories  and  past  the  Tower  yard, 
and  as  we  glide  down  the  Thames,  St.  Pauls, 
half-hidden  in  mist  and  coal-smoke,  will  proba- 
bly be  iny  last  glimpse  of  London. 


CHAPTER  XLYIII. 

HOMEWARD   BOUND — CONCLUSION. 

We  slid  out  of  St.  Katharine's  Dock  at  noon 
on  the  appointed  day.  and  with  a  pair  of  sooty 
steamboats  hitched  to  our  vessel,  moved  slowly 
down  the  Thames  in  mist  and  drizzling  rain.  I 
stayed  on  the  wet  deck  all  afternoon,  that  I 


THE  CHANNEL.  459 

might  more  forcibly  and  joyously  feel  we  were 
again  in  motion  on  the  waters  and  homeward 
bound !  My  attention  was  divided  between  the 
dreary  views  of  Blaekwall,  Greenwich  and  Wool- 
wich, and  the  motley  throng  of  passengers  who 
were  to  form  our  ocean  society.  An  English 
family,  going  out  to  settle  in  Canada,  were 
gathered  together  in  great  distress  and  anxiety, 
for  the  father  had  gone  ashore  in  London  at"a 
late  hour,  and  was  left  behind.  When  we  an- 
chored for  the  night  at  Gravesend,  their  fears 
were  quieted  by  his  arrival  in  a  skiff  from  the 
shore,  as  he  had  immediately  followed  us  by 
railroad. 

My  cousin  and  B had  hastened  on  from 

Paris  to  join  me,  and  a  day  before  the  sailing  of 
the  "Victoria,"  we  took  berths  in  the  second 
cabin,  for  twelve  pounds  ten  shillings  each,  which 
in  the  London  line  of  packets,  includes  coarse 
but  substantial  fare  for  the  whole  voyage.  Our 
funds  were  insufficient  to  pay  even  this;  but 
Captain  Morgan,  less  mistrustful  than  my  Nor- 
man landlord,  generously  agreed  that  the  re- 
mainder of  the  fare  should  be  paid  in  America. 

B and  I,  with  two  young  Englishmen,  took 

possession  of  a  state-room  of  rough  boards, 
lighted  by  a  bull's-eye,  which  in  stormy  weather 
leaked  so  much  that  our  trunks  swam  in  water. 
A  narrow  mattress  and  blanket  with  a  knapsack 
for  a  pillow,  formed  a  passable  bed.  A  long 
entry  between  the  rooms,  lighted  by  a  feeble 
swinging  lamp,  was  filled  with  a  board  table, 
around  which  the  thirty-two  second  cabin  pas- 
sengers met  to  discuss  politics  and  salt  pork, 
favorable  winds  and  hard  sea-biscuit. 

We  lay  becalmed  opposite  Sheerness  the  whole 
of  the  second  day.  At  dusk  a  sudden  squall 
came  up.  which  drove  us  foaming  towards  the 
North  Foreland.  When  I  went  on  deck  in  the 
morning,  we  had  passed  Dover  and  Brighton . 
and  the  Isle  of  Wight  was  rising  dim  ahead 


460  VIEWS  A -FOOT. 

of  us.  The  low  English  coast  on  our  right 
was  bordered  by  long  reaches  of  dazzling 
chalky  sand,  which  glittered  along  the  calm  blue 
water. 

Gliding  into  the  Bay  of  Portsmouth,  we  drop- 
ped anchor  opposite  the  romantic  town  of  Rydo, 
built  on  the  sloping  shore  of  the  Green  Isle  of 
Wight.  Eight  or  nine  vessels  of  the  Experi- 
mental Squadron  were  anchored  near  us,  and 
over  the  houses  of  Portsmouth,  I  saw  the  masts 
of  the  Victory— the  flag-ship  in  the  battle  of 
Trafalgar,  on  board  of  which  Nelson  was  killed. 
The  wind  was  not  strong  enough  to  permit  the 
passage  of  the  Needles,  so  at  midnight  we  suc- 
ceeded in  wearing  back  again  into  the  channel, 
around  the  Isle  of  Wight.  A  head  wind  foivrd 
us  to  tack  away  towards  the  shore  of  France. 
We  were  twice  in  sight  of  the  rocky  coast  of  Brit- 
tany, near  Cherbourg,  but  the  misty  promon- 
tory of  Land's  End  was  our  last  glimpse  of  the 
old  world. 

On  one  of  our  first  day's  at  sea,  I  caught  a 
curlew,  which  came  flying  on  weary  wings  to- 
wards us,  and  alighted  on  one  of  the  boats. 
Two  of  his  brethren,  too  much  exhausted  or  too 
timid  to  do  likewise,  dropped  flat  on  the  waves 
and  resigned  themselves  to  their  fate  without  a 
struggle.  I  slipped  up  and  caught  his  long,  lank 
legs,  while  he  was  resting  with  flagging  wings 
and  half-shut  eyes.  We  fed  him,  though  it  was 
difficult  to  get  anything  down  his  reed-shaped 
bill ;  but  he  took  kindly  to  our  force-work,  and 
when  we  let  him  loose  on  the  deck,  walked  about 
with  an  air  quite  tame  and  familiar.  He  died, 
however,  two  days  afterwards.  A  French  pig- 
eon, vhich  was  caught  in  the  rigging,  lived  and 
throve  during  the  whole  of  the  passage. 

A  few  days  afterwards  a  heavy  storm  came  on, 
ami  we  were  all  sleepless  and  sea-sick,  as  long  as 
it  lasted.  Thanks,  however,  to  a  beautiful  law  of 
memory,  the  recollection  of  that  dismal  period 


ON  THE  A  TL ANTIC.  461 

soon  lost  its  unpleasantness,  while  the  grand 
forms  of  beauty  the  vexed  ocean  presented,  will 
remain  forever,  as  distinct  and  abiding  images. 
I  kept  on  deck  as  long  as  I  could  stand,  watching 
the  giant  waves  over  which  our  vessel  took  her 
course.  They  rolled  up  towards  us,  thirty  or  forty 
feet  in  height — dark  gray  masses,  changing  to  a 
beautiful  vitriol  tint,  wherever  the  light  struck 
through  their  countless  and  changing  crests.  It 
was  a  glorious  thing  to  see  our  good  ship  mount 
slowly  up  the  side  of  one  of  these  watery  hills, 
till  her  prow  was  lifted  high  in  air,  then,  rocking 
over  its  brow,  plunge  with  a  slight  quiver  down- 
ward, and  plough  up  a  briny  cataract,  as  she 
struck  the  vale.  I  never  before  realized  the  ter- 
rible sublimity  of  the  sea.  And  yet  it  was  a 
pride  to  see  how  man — strong  in  his  godlike  will 
— could  bid  defiance  to  those  whelming  surges, 
and  brave  their  wrath  unharmed. 

We  swung  up  and  down  on  the  billows,  till  we 
scarcely  knew  which  way  to  stand.  The  most 
grave  and  sober  personages  suddenly  found 
themselves  reeling  in  a  very  undignified  manner, 
and  not  a  few  measured  their  lengths  on  the 
slippery  decks.  Boxes  and  barrels  were  affected 
in  like  manner ;  everything  danced  around  us. 
Trunks  ran  out  from  under  the  berths;  packages 
leaped  down  from  the  shelves;  chairs  skipped 
across  the  rooms,  and  at  table,  knives,  forks 
and  mugs  engaged  in  a  general  waltz  and  break 
down.  One  incident  of  this  kind  was  rather 
laughable.  One  night,  about  midnight,  the 

fale,  which  had  been  blowing  violently,  sud- 
enly  lulled,  "as  if,"  to  use  a  sailor's  phrase,  "it 
had  been  chopped  off! "  Instantly  the  ship 
gave  a  tremendous  lurch,  which  was  the  signal 
for  a  general  breaking  loose.  Two  or  three 
others  followed,  so  violent,  that  for  a  moment  I 
imagined  the  vessel  had  been  thrown  on  her 
beam  ends.  Trunks,  crockery  and  barrels  went 
banging  down  from  one  end  of  the  ship  to  the 


462  VIEWS   A-POOT. 

other.  The  women  in  the  steerage  set  up  an 
awful  scream,  and  the  German  emigrants,  think- 
ing  we  were  in  terrible  danger,  commenced  pray- 
ing with  might  and  main.  In  the  passage  m-ar 
our  room  stood  several  barrels,  filled  with 
broken  dishes,  which  at  every  lurch  went  bang- 
ing from  side  to  side,  jarring  the  board  parti- 
tion and  making  a  horrible  din.  I  shall  not 
Boon  forget  the  Babel  which  kept  our  eyes  open 
that  night. 

The  19th  of  May  a  calm  came  on.  Our  white 
wings  flapped  idly  on  the  mast,  and  only  the 
top-gallant  sails  were  bent  enough  occasionally 
to  lug  us  along  at  a  mile  an  hour.  A  barque 
from  Ceylon,  making  the  most  of  the  wind,  with 
every  rag  of  canvas  set.  passed  us  slowly  on  the 
way  eastward.  The  sun  went  down  unclouded, 
and  a  glorious  starry  night  brooded  over  us. 
Its  clearness  and  brightness  were  to  me  indica- 
tions of  America.  I  longed  to  be  on  shore. 
The  forests  about  home  were  then  clothed  in 
the  delicate  green  of  their  first  leaves,  and  that 
bland  weather  embraced  the  sweet  earth  like  a 
blessing  of  heaven.  The  gentle  breath  from  out 
the  west  seemed  made  for  the  odor  of  violets, 
and  as  it  came  to  me  over  the  slightly-ruffled 
deep,  I  thought  how  much  sweeter  it  were  to  feel 
it,  while  "wasting  in  wood-paths  the  voluptuous 
hours." 

Soon  afterwards  a  fresh  wind  sprang  up, 
which  increased  rapidly,  till  every  sail  was  bent 
to  the  fall.  Our  vessel  parted  the  brine  with  an 
arrowy  glide,  the  ease  and  grace  of  which  it  is 
impossible  to  describe.  The  breeze  held  on 
steadily  for  two  or  three  days,  which  brought 
us  to  the  southern  extremity  of  the  Banks. 
Here  the  air  felt  so  sharp  and  chilly,  that  I  was 
afraid  we  might  be  under  the  lee  of  an  iceberg, 
but  in  the  evening  the  dull  gray  mass  of  clouds 
lifted  themselves  from  the  horizon,  and  the  sun 
set  in  clear,  American  beauty  away  beyond  Lab- 


HOME  AGAIN.  463 

rador.  The  next  morning  we  were  enveloped 
in  a  dense  fog,  and  the  wind  which  bore  us  on- 
ward was  of  a  piercing  coldness.  A  sharp  look- 
out was  kept  on  the  bow,  but  as  we  could  see  but 
a  short  distance,  it  might  have  been  dangerous 
had  we  met  one  of  the  Arctic  squadron.  At 
noon  it  cleared  away  again,  and  the  bank  of 
fog  was  visible  a  long  time  astern,  piled  along 
the  horizon,  reminding  me  of  the  Alps,  as  seen 
from  the  plains  of  Piedmont. 

On  the  31st,  the  fortunate  wind  which  carried 
us  from  the  Banks,  failed  us  about  thirty-five 
miles  from  Sandy  Hook.  We  lay  in  the  midst  of 
the  mackerel  fishery,  with  small  schooners 
nnchored  all  around  us.  Fog,  dense  and  im- 
penetrable, weighed  on  the  moveless  ocean,  like 
;ni  atmosphere  of  wool.  The  only  incident  to 
break  the  horrid  monoton3r  of  the  day,  was  the 
arrival  of  a  pilot,  with  one  or  two  newspapers, 
detailing  the  account  of  the  Mexican  war.  AVe 
li  ';ird  in  the  afternoon  the  booming  of  the  surf 
along  the  low  beach  of  Long  Island — hollow  and 
faint,  like  the  murmur  of  a  shell.  When  the  mist 
lifted  a  little,  we  saw  the  faint  line  of  breakers 
;  1 1 1  >  ng  the  shore.  The  Germans  gathered  on  deck 
to  sing  their  old,  familiar  songs,  and  their  voices 
blended  beautifully  together  in  the  stillness. 

Next  morning  at  sunrise  we  saw  Sandy  Hook; 
at  nine  o'clock  we  were  telegraphed  in  New  York 
by  the  station  at  Coney  Island ;  at  eleven  the 
steamer  "Hercules"  met  us  outside  the  Hook; 
and  at  noon  we  were  gliding  up  the  Narrows, 
witli  the  whole  ship's  company  of  four  hundred 
persons  on  deck,  gazing  on  the  beautiful  shores 
of  Stateu  Island  and  agreeing  almost  univers- 
ally, that  it  was  the  most  delightful  scene  they 
had  ever  looked  upon. 

And  now  I  close  the  story  of  my  long  wander- 
ing, as  I  began  it — with  a  lay  written  on  the 
deep. 


VIEWS  A-FOOT. 
HOMEWARD  BOUND. 

Farewell  to  Europe!     Days  have  come  and  gone 
Since  misty  England  set  behind  the  sea. 
Our  ship  climbs  onward  o'er  the  lifted  waves, 
That  gather  up  in  ridges,  moantain-high 
And  like  a  sea-god,  conscious  in  his  power, 
Buffets  the  surges.     Storm-arousing  winds 
That  sweep,  unchecked,  from  frozen  Labrador, 
Make  wintry  music  through  the  creaking  shrouds. 
Th'  horizon's  ring,  that  clasps  the  dreary  view, 
Lays  mistily  upon  the  gray  Atlantic's  breast, 
Shut  out,  at  times,  by  bulk  of  sparry  blue, 
That,  rolling  near  us,  heaves  the  swaying  prow 
High  on  its  shoulders,  to  descend  again 
Ploughing  a  thousand  cascades,  and  around 
Spreading  the  frothy  foam.     These  watery  gulfs. 
With  storm,  and  winds  far- sweeping,  hem  us  in, 
Alone  upon  the  waters! 

Days  must  pass — 

Many  and  weary — between  sea  and  sky. 
Our  eyes,  that  long  e'en  now  for  the  fresh  green 
Of  sprouting  forests,  and  the  far  blue  stretch 
Of  regal  mountains  piled  along  the  sky, 
Must  see,  for  many  an  eve,  the  level  sun 
Sheathe,  with  his  latest  gold,  the  heaving  brine, 
By  thousand  ripples  shivered,  or  Night's  pomp 
Brooding  in  silence,  ebon  and  profound, 
Upon  the  murmuring  darkness  of  the  deep, 
Broke  i  by  flashings,  that  the  parted  wave 
Sends  white  and  star-like  through  its  bursting  foam. 
Yet  not  more  dear  the  opening  dawn  of  heaven 
Poured  on  the  earth  in  an  Italian  May, 
When  souls  take  wings  upon  the  scented  air 
Of  starry  meadows,  and  the  yearning  heart 
Pains  with  deep  sweetness  in  the  balmy  time, 
Than  these  gray  morns,  and  days  of  misty  blue, 
And  surges,  never-ceasing; — for  our  prow 
Points  to  the  sunset  like  a  morning  ray, 
And  o'er  the  waves,  and  through  the  sweeping  storms, 
Through  day  and  darkness,  rushes  ever  on, 
Westward  and  westward  still!     What  joy  can  send 
The  spirit  thrilling  onward  with  the  wind, 
In  untamed  exultation,  like  the  thought 
That  fills  the  Homeward  Bound? 

Country  and  home! 

Ah!  not  the  charm  of  silver-tongued  romance, 
Born  of  the  feudal  time,  nor  whatsoe'er 
Of  dying  glory  fills  the  golden  realms 


HOMEWARD  BOUND.  4G5 

Of  perished  song,  where  heaven  descended  Art 
Still  boasts  her  liter  triumphs,  can  compare 
With  that  one  thought  of  liberty  inherited — 
Of  free  life  giv'n  by  fathers  who  were  free, 
And  to  be  left  to  children  freer  still! 
That  pride  and  consciousness  of  manhood,  caught 
From  boyish  musings  on  the  holy  graves 
Of  hero-martyrs,  and  from  every  form 
Which  virgin  Nature,  mighty  and  unchained, 
Takes  in  an  empire  not  hss  proudly  so—- 
Inspired in  mountain  airs,  untainted  yet 
By  thousand  generations'  breathing — felt 
Line  a  near  presence  in  the  awful  depths 
Of  unhewn  forests,  and  upon  the  steep 
Where  giant  rivers  take  their  maddening  plunge- 
Has  grown  impatient  of  the  stifling  damps 
Which  hover  close  en  Europe's  shackled  soil. 
Content  to  tread  awhile  the  holy  steps 
Of  Art  and  Genius,  sacred  through  all  time, 
The  spirit  breathed  that  dull,  oppressive  air — 
Which,  freighted  with  its  tyrant-clouds,  o'erweighs 
The  upward  throb  of  many  a  nation's  soul — 
Amid  those  olden  memories,  felt  the  thrall, 
But  kept  the  birth-right  of  its  freer  home. 
Here,  on  the  world's  blue  highway,  comes  again 
The  voice  of  Freedom,  h  ard  amid  the  roar 
Of  sundered  billows,  while  above  the  wave 
Rise  visions  of  the  forest  and  the  stream. 
Like  trailing  robes  the  morning  mists  uproll, 
Torn  by  the  mountain  pines;  the  flashing  rills 
Shout  downward  through  the  hollows  ot  the  vales; 
Down  the  great  river's  bosom  shining  sails 
Glide  with  a  gradual  motion,  while  from  all — 
Hamlet,  and  bowered  homestead,  and  proud  town- 
Voices  of  joy  ring  far  up  into  heaven! 

Yet  louder,  winds!     Urge  on  our  keel,  ye  waves, 
Swift  as  the  spirit's  yearnings !     We  would  ride 
With  a  loud  stormy  motion  o'er  your  crests, 
With  tempests  shouting  like  a  sudden  joy — 
Interpreting  our  triumph!     'Tis  your  voice, 
Ye  unchained  elements,  alone  can  speak 
The  sympathetic  feeling  of  the  free — 
The  arrowy  impulse  of  the  Homeward  Bound! 


I  shall  not  attempt  to  describe  the  excite  .nent 
of  that  afternoon.  After  thirty-seven  days  be- 
tween sky  and  water,  any  shore  would  have  been 


46t>  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

beautiful,  but  when  it  was  home,  after  we  had 
been  two  years  absent,  during  an  age  when  time 
is  always  slow,  it  required  a  powerful  effort  to 
maintain  any  propriety  of  manner.  The  steward 
prepared  a  parting  dinner,  much  better  than  any 
we  had  had  at  sea ;  but  I  tried  in  vain  to  eat. 
Never  were  trees  such  a  glorious  green  as  those 
around  the  Quarantine  buildings,  where  we  lav 
to  for  half  an  hour,  to  be  visited  by  the  physi- 
cian. The  day  was  ck>udy,  and  thick  mist  hung 
on  the  tops  of  the  hills,  but  I  felt  as  if  I  could 
never  tire  looking  at  the  land. 

At  last  we  approached  the  city.  It  appeared 
smaller  than  when  I  left,  but  this  might  have 
been  because  I  was  habituated  to  the  broad  dis- 
tances of  the  sea.  Our  scanty  baggage  was 
brought  on  deck,  for  the  inspection  of  the  cus- 
tom-house officer,  but  we  were  neither  annoyed 
nor  delayed  by  the  operation.  The  steamer  by 
this  time  had  taken  us  to  the  pier  at  Pine-street 
wharf,  and  the  slight  jar  of  the  vessel  as  she 
came  alongside,  sent  a  thrill  of  delight  through 
our  frames.  But  when  finally  the  ladder  was  let 
down,  and  we  sprang  upon  the  pier,  it  was  with 
an  electric  shock,  as  if  of  recognition  from  the 
very  soil.  It  was  about  four  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon, and  we  were  glad  that  night  was  so  near 
at  hand.  After  such  strong  excitement,  and 
even  bewilderment  of  feeling  as  we  had  known 
since  morning,  the  prospect  of  rest  was  very 
attractive. 

But  no  sooner  were  we  fairly  deposited  in  a 
hotel,  than  we  must  needs  see  the  city  again. 
How  we  had  talked  over  this  hour !  How  we 
had  thought  of  the  life,  the  neatness,  the  com- 
fort of  our  American  cities,  when  rambling 
through  some  filthy  and  depopulated  capital  of 
the  Old  World !  At  first  sight  our  anticipations 
were  not  borne  out;  there  had  been  heavy  rains 
for  a  week  or  two,  and  the  streets  were  not  re- 
markably clean;  houses  were  being  built  up  or 


LANDING  A  T  NEW  TORK.  46? 

taken  down,  on  all  sides,  and  the  number  of  trees 
in  full  foliage,  every  where  visible,  gave  us  the 
idea  of  an  immense  unfinished  country  town.  I 
took  this  back,  it  is  true,  the  next  morning,  when 
the  sun  was  bright  and  the  streets  were  thronged 
with  people.  But  what  activity,  what  a  restless 
eagerness  and  even  keenness  of  expression  on 
every  countenance !  I  could  not  have  believed 
that  the  general  cast  of  the  American  face  was  so 
sharp ;  yet  nothing  was  so  remarkable  as  the 
perfect  independence  of  manner  wThich  we  noticed 
in  all,  down  to  the  very  children.  lean  easily 
conceive  how  this  should  jar  with  the  feelings  of 
a  stranger,  accustomed  to  the  deference,  not  to 
say  servility,  in  which  the  largest  class  of  the 
people  of  Europe  is  trained ;  but  it  was  a  most 
refreshing  change  to  us. 

Life  at  sea  sharpens  one's  sensibilities  to  the 
sounds  and  scents  of  land,  in  a  very  high  degree. 
We  noticed  a  difference  in  the  atmosphere  of  dif- 
ferent streets,  and  in  the  scent  of  leaves  and 
grass,  which  a  land  friend  who  was  with  us  failed 
entirely  to  distinguish.  The  next  day,  as  we 
left  New  York,  and  in  perfect  exultation  of  spirit 
sped  across  New  Jersey,  (which  was  never  half 
so  beautiful  to  our  eyes,)  I  could  feel  nothing 
but  one  continued  sensation  of  the  country — fra- 
grant hay-field  and  wild  clearing,  garden  and 
marshy  hollow,  and  the  cool  shadow  of  the 
woodlands — I  was  by  turns  possessed  with  the 
spirit  of  them  all.  The  twilight  deepened  as  we 
passed  down  the  Delaware;  I  stood  on  the  prom- 
enade deck  and  watched  the  evening  star  kind- 
ling through  the  cloudless  flush  of  sunset,  while 
the  winds  that  came  over  the  glassy  river  bore 
me  the  odor  of  long-remembered  meadow  flowr- 
ers.  We  asked  each  other  what  there  was  in  the 
twilights  of  Florence  and  Vallombrosa  more 
delicious  than  this? 

A  night  in  neat,  cheerful,  home-like  Philadel- 
phia,   whose    dimensions    were    also    a    little 


468  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

shrunken  in  our  eyes,  and  a  glorious  June  morn. 
Ing  broke  on  the  last  day  of  our  pilgrimage. 
Again  we  were  on  the  Delaware,  pacing  the  deck 
in  rapture  at  the  green,  luxuriant  beauty  of  its 
shores.  Is  it  not  worth  years  of  absence,  to 
learn  how  to  love  one's  land  as  it  should  be 
loved?  Two  or  three  hours  brought  us  to  Wil- 
mington, in  Delaware,  and  within  twelve  miles 
of  home.  Now  came  the  realization  of  a  plan  we 
had  talked  over  a  hundred  times,  to  keep  up  our 
spirits  when  the  weather  was  gloomy,  or  the 
journey  lay  through  some  waste  of  barren  coun- 
try. Our  knapsacks,  which  had  been  laid  down 
in  Paris,  were  again  taken  up,  slouched  German 
hats  substituted  for  our  modern  black  cylinders, 
belt  and  blouse  donned,  and  the  pilgrim  staff 
grasped  for  the  rest  of  our  journey.  But  it  was 
apart  of  our  plan,  that  we  should  not  roach 
home  till  after  nightfall ;  we  could  not  think  of 
seeing  any  one  we  knew  before  those  who  were 
nearest  to  us ;  and  so  it  was  necessary  to  wait  a 
few  hours  before  starting. 

The  time  came;  that  walk  of  three  or  four 
hours  seemed  longer  than  many  a  day's  tramp 
of  thirty  miles,  but  every  step  of  the  way  was 
familiar  ground.  The  people  we  met  stared, 
laughed,  or  looked  suspiciously  after  us,  but  we 
were  quite  insensible  to  any  observation.  We 
only  counted  the  fields,  measured  the  distance 
from  hill  to  hill,  and  watched  the  gradual  de- 
cline of  the  broad,  bright  sun.  It  went  down  at 
last,  and  our  homes  were  not  far  off.  When  the 
twilight  grew  deeper,  we  parted,  and  each 
thought  what  an  experience  lay  between  that 
moment  and  the  next  morning."  I  took  to  the 
fields,  plunged  into  a  sea  of  dewy  clover,  and 
made  for  a  light  which  began  to  glimmer  ns  it 
grew  darker.  When  I  reached  it  and  looked 
with  the  most  painful  excitement  through  the 
window  on  the  unsuspecting  group  within,  there 
wag  not  one  face  missing. 


REQUISITES  FOR  A  PEDESTRIAN.       469 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

ADVICE  AND  INFORMATION  FOR  PEDESTRIANS. 

Although  the  narrative  of  my  journey,  "with 
knapsack  and  staff,"  is  now  strictly  finished,  a 
few  more  words  of  explanation  seem  necessary, 
to  describe  more  fully  the  method  of  travelling 
which  we  adopted.  I  add  them  the  more  will- 
ingty,  as  it  is  my  belief  that  many,  whose  cir- 
cumstances are  similar  to  mine,  desire  to  under- 
take the  same  romantic  journey.  Some  matter- 
of-fact  statements  may  be  to  them  useful  as  well 
as  interesting. 

To  see  Europe  as  a  pedestrian  requires  little 
preparation,  if  the  traveller  is  willing  to  forego 
some  of  the  refinements  of  living  to  which  he 
may  have  been  accustomed,  for  the  sake  of  the 
new  and  interesting  fields  of  observation  which 
will  be  opened  to  him.  He  must  be  content  to 
sleep  on  hard  beds,  and  partake  of  coarse  fare ; 
to  undergo  rudeness  at  times  from  the  officers  of 
the  police  and  the  porters  of  palaces  and  gal- 
leries; or  to  travel  for  hours  ia  rain  and  storm, 
without  finding  a  shelter.  The  knapsack  will  at 
first  be  heavy  upon  the  shoulders,  the  feet  will  be 
sore  and  the  limbs  weary  with  the  day's  walk, 
and  sometimes  the  spirit  will  begin  to  flag  un- 
der the  general  fatigue  of  body.  This,  however, 
soon  passes  over.  In  a  week's  time,  if  the  pedes- 
trian does  not  attempt  too  much  on  setting  out, 
his  limbs  are  stronger,  and  his  gait  more  firm 
and  vigorous;  he  lies  down  at  night  wi4,/i  a  feel- 
ing of  refreshing  rest,  sleeps  with  a  •joundncss 
undisturbed  by  a  single  dream,  the*,  seems  al- 
most like  death,  if  he  has  been  accustomed  to 
restless  nights;  and  rises  invigorated  in  heart 


470  VIEWS  A-FOOT 

and  frame  for  the  next  day's  journey.  The 
coarse  black  bread  of  the  peasant  inns,  with 
cheese  no  less  coarse,  and  a  huge  mug  of  milk  or 
the  nourishing  beer  of  Germany,  have  a  relish  to 
his  keen  appetite,  which  excites  his  own  astonish- 
ment. And  if  he  is  willing  to  regard  all  incivility 
and  attempts  at  imposition  as  valuable  lessons 
in  the  study  of  human  nature,  and  to  keep  his 
temper  and  cheerfulness  in  any  situation  which 
may  try  them,  he  is  prepared  to  walk  through 
the  whole  of  Europe,  with  more  real  pleasure  to 
himself,  and  far  more  profit,  than  if  he  journeyed 
in  style  and  enjoyed  (?)  the  constant  services  of 
couriers  and  valets  de  place. 

Should  his  means  become  unusually  scant,  he 
will  find  it  possible  to  travel  on  an  amazingly 
small  pittance,  and  with  more  actual  bodily 
comfort  than  would  seem  possible,  to  one  who 
has  not  tried  it.  I  was  more  than  once  obliged 
to  walk  a  number  of  days  in  succession,  on  less 
than  a  franc  a  day,  and  found  that  by  far  the 
greatest  drawback  to  my  enjoyment  was  the  fear 
that  I  might  be  without  relief  when  this  allow- 
ance should  be  exhausted.  One  observes,  ad- 
mires, wonders  and  learns  quite  as  extensively, 
under  such  circumstances,  as  if  he  ha<l  unlimited 
means.  Perhaps  some  account  oi  this  truly 
pilgrim-like  journeying,  may  possess  a  little  in- 
terest for  the  general  reader. 

The  only  expense  that  cannot  be  reduced  at 
will,  in  Europe,  is  that  for  sleeping.  You  may 
live  on  a  crust  of  bread  a  day,  but  lower  than 
four  cents  for  a  bed  you  ca"unot  go !  In  Ger- 
many this  is  the  regular  price  paid  by  travelling 
journeymen,  and  no  one  need  wish  for  a  more 
comfortable  resting  place,  than  those  massive 
boxes,  (when  you  have  become  accustomed  to 
their  shortness,)  with  their  coarse  but  clean 
linen  sheets,  and  healthy  mattresses  of  straw.  In 
Italy  the  price  varies  from  half  a  paul  to  a.  paul, 
(ten  cents,)  but  a  person  somewhat  familiar 


LIFE  IN  THE  OPEN  AIR.  471 

the  language  would  not  often  be  asked 
more  than  the  former  price,  for  which  he  has  a 
bed  stuffed  with  corn-husks,  large  enough  for  at 
least  three  men.  I  was  asked  in  France,  five 
sous  in  all  the  village  inns,  from  Marseilles  to 
Dieppe.  The  pedestrian  cares  far  more  for  a 
good  rest,  than  for  the  quality  of  his  fare,  and  a 
walk  of  thirty  miles  prepares  him  to  find  it,  on 
the  hardest  couch.  I  usually  rose  before  sun- 
rise, and  immediately  began  the  day's  journey, 
the  cost  of  lodging  having  been  paid  the  night 
before — a  universal  custom  among  the  common 
inns,  which  are  frequented  by  the  peasantry.  At 
the  next  village,  I  would  buy  a  loaf  of  the  hard 
brown  bread,  with  some  cheese,  or  butter,  or 
whatever  substantial  addition  could  be  made  at 
trifling  cost,  and  breakfast  upon  a  bank  by  the 
roadside,  lying  at  full  length  on  the  dewy  grass, 
and  using  my  knapsack  as  a  table.  I  might  also 
mention  that  a  leathern  pouch,  fastened  to  one 
side  of  this  table,  contained  a  knife  and  fork, 
and  one  or  two  solid  tin  boxes  for  articles  which 
could  not  be  carried  in  the  pocket.  A  similar 
pouch  at  the  other  side  held  pen  and  ink,  and  a 
small  bottle,  which  was  filled  sometimes  with 
the  fresh  water  of  the  streams,  and  sometimes 
with  the  common  country  wine,  of  the  year's 
vintage,  which  costs  from  three  to  six  sous  the 
quart. 

After  walking  mo:e  than  half  the  distance  to 
be  accomplished,  with  half  an  hour's  rest,  dinner 
would  be  made  in  the  same  manner,  and  while 
we  rested  the  full  hour  alloted  to  the  mid-day 
halt,  guide-books  would  be  examined,  journals 
written,  a  sketch  made  of  the  landscape,  or  our 
minds  refreshed  by  reading  a  passage  in  Milton 
or  Childe  Harold.  If  it  was  during  the  cold,  wet 
days  of  winter,  we  sought  a  rock,  or  sometimes 
the  broad  abutment  of  a  chance  bridge,  upon 
which  to  lie;  in  summer,  it  mattered  little 
whether  we  rested  in  sun  or  shade,  under  a  bright 


472  Vt£\VS  A-FOOT. 

or  rainy  sky.  The  vital  energy  which  this  life  in 
the  open  air  gives  to  the  constitution,  is  remark- 
able. The  very  sensation  of  health  and  strength 
becomes  a  positive  luxury,  and  the  heart  over- 
flows with  its  buoyant  exuberance  of  cheerful- 
ness. Every  breath  of  the  fresh  morning  air 
was  like  a  draught  of  some  sparkling  elixir, 
gifted  with  all  the  potency  of  the  undiscovered 
Fountain  of  youth.  We  felt  pent  and  oppressed 
within  the  walls  of  a  dwelling ;  it  was  far  more 
agreeable  to  march  in  the  face  of  a  driving 
shower,  under  whose  beating  the  blood  grew 
fresh  and  warm,  than  to  sit  by  a  dull  fireplace, 
waiting  for  it  to  cease.  Although  I  had  lived 
mainly  upon  a  farm  till  the  age  of  seventeen,  and 
was  accustomed  to  out-door  exercise,  I  never  be- 
fore felt  how  much  life  one  may  draw  from  air 
and  sunshine  alone. 

Thus,  what  at  first  was  borne  as  a  hardship, 
became  at  last  an  enjoyment,  and  there  seemed 
to  be  no  situation  so  extreme,  that  it  did  not 
possess  some  charm  to  my  mind,  which  made  me 
unwilling  to  shrink  from  the  experience.  Still,  as 
one  depth  of  endurance  after  another  was  reached, 
the  words  of  Cicero  would  recur  to  me  as  en- 
couragement— "Perhaps  even  this  may  hereafter 
be  remembered  with  pleasure."  Once  only,  while 
waiting  six  days  at  Lyons  in  gloomy  weather  and 
among  harsh  people,  without  a  sous,  and  with  a 
strong  doubt  of  receiving  any  relief,  I  became 
indifferent  to  what  might  happen,  and  woufcl 
have  passively  met  any  change  for  the  worse — 
as  men  who  have  been  exposed  to  shipwreck  for 
days,  scarce  make  an  effort  to  save  themselves 
when  the  vessel  strikes  at  last. 

One  little  experience  of  this  kind,  though  less 
desperate,  ma3T  be  worth  relating.  It  happened 
during  my  stay  in  Florence ;  and  what  might 
not  a  man  bear,  for  the  sake  of  living  in  the 
midst  of  such  a  Paradise?  My  comrade  and  I 
had  failed  to  receive  a  remittance  at  the  expected 


STAR  VA  TION  EXPERIENCE.  473 

time,  and  our  funds  had  gone  down  to  zero.  The 
remaining  one  of  our  trio  of  Americans,  who  had 
taken  a  suite  of  rooms  in  company,  a  noble- 
hearted  Kentuckian,  shared  his  own  means  with 
os,  till  what  he  had  in  Florence  was  nearly  ex- 
hausted. His  banker  lived  in  Leghorn  and  he 
concluded  to  go  there  and  draw  for  more,  in- 
stead of  having  it  sent  through  a  correspondent. 
B —  -  decided  to  accompany  him,  and  two 
young  Englishmen,  who  had  just  arrived  on  foot 
from  "Geneva,  joined  the  party.  They  resphed 
on  making  an  adventure  out  of  the  expedition, 
and  it  was  accordingly  agreed  that  they  should 
take  one  of  the  market-boats  of  the  Arno,  and 
sail  down  to  Pisa,  more  than  fifty  miles  distant, 
by  the  river.  We  paid  one  or  two  visits  to  the 
western  gate  of  the  city,  where  numbers  of  these 
craft  always  lie  at  anchor,  and  struck  a  bargain 
with  a  sturdy  boatman,  that  he  should  take 
them  for  a  scudo  (about  one  dollar)  each. 

The  hour  of  starting  was  nine  o'clock  in  the 
evening,  and  I  accompanied  them  to  the  start- 
ing place.  The  boat  had  a  slight  canvas  cover- 
ing, and  the  crew  consisted  only  of  the  owner 
and  his  son  Antonio,  a  boy  of  ten.  I  shall  not 
recount  their  voyage  all  that  night,  (which  was 
so  cold,  that  they  tied  each  other  up  in  the  boat- 
man's meal-bags,  around  the  neck,  and  lay 
down  in  a  heap  on  the  ribbed  bottom  of  the 
boat.)  nor  their  adventure  in  Pisa  and  Leghorn. 
They  were  to  be  absent  three  or  four  days,  and 
had  left  me  money  enough  to  live  upon  in  the 
meantime,  but  the"  next  morning  an  unexpected 
expense  consumed  nearly  the  whole  of  it.  I  had 
about  four  crazie  (three  cents)  a  day  for  my 
in;'!  Is,  and  by  spending  one  of  these  for  bread, 
and  the  remainder  for  ripe  figs,  of  which  one 
crazie  will  purchase  fifteen  or  twenty,!  managed 
to  make  a  diminutive  breakfast  and  dinner,  but 
was  careful  not  to  take  much  exercise,  on  ac- 
count of  the  increase  of  hunger.  As  it  happened, 


474  I'fEWS   A- FOOT. 

my  friends  remained  two  days  longer  than  I  had 
expected,  and  the  last  two  crazie  I  had  were  ex- 
pended for  one  d.iy's  provisions.  I  then  decided 
to  try  the  next  day  without  any  thing,  and  act- 
ually felt  a  curiosity  to  know  what  one's  sensa- 
tions would  be,  on  experiencing  two  or  three  days 
of  starvation.  I  knew  that  if  the  feeling  should 
become  insupportable,  I  could  easily  walk  out  to 
the  mountain  of  Fiesole,  where  a  fine  fig  orchard 
shaded  the  old  Roman  amphitheatre.  But  the 
experiment  was  broken  off  in  its  commencement, 
by  the  arrival  of  the  absent  ones,  in  the  middle 
of  the  night.  Such  is  the  weakness  of  human 
nature,  that  on  finding  I  should  not  want  for 
breakfast,  I  arose  from  bed,  and  ate  two  or  three 
figs  which,  by  a  strong  exertion,  I  had  saved 
from  the  scanty  allowance  of  the  day.  I  only 
relate  this  incident  to  show  that  the  severest  de- 
privation is  very  easily  borne,  and  that  it  is 
worth  bearing  for  what  it  teaches. 

So  also,  when  a  storm  came  up  at  nightfall, 
while  we  were  a  league  distant  from  the  end  of 
our  journey,  after  the  first  natural  shrinking 
from  its  violence  was  over,  there  was  a  sublime 
pleasure  in  walking  in  the  midst  of  darkness  and 
dashing  rain.  There  have  been  times  when  the 
sky  was  black,  just  revealing  its  deeps  of  whelm- 
ing cloud,  and  the  winds  full  of  the  cold,  fresh, 
saddening  spirit  of  the  storm,  which  I  would  not 
have  exchanged  for  the  brightness  of  a  morning 
beside  the  sea. 

A  few  words  in  relation  to  a  pedestrian's 
equipment  may  be  of  some  practical  value.  An 
idea  of  the  general  appearance  of  the  travelling 
costume  of  a  German  student,  which  I  adopted 
as  the  most  serviceable  and  agreeable,  may  be 
obtained  from  the  portrait  accompanying  this 
volume,  but  there  are  many  small  particulars,  in 
addition,  which  I  have  often  been  asked  to  give. 
It  is  the  best  plan  to  take  no  more  clothing  than 
is  absolutely  required,  as  the  traveller  will  not 


474 

desire  to  carry  more  than  fifteen  pounds  on  hia 
back,  knapsack  included.  A  single  suit  of  good 
dark  cloth,  with  a  supply  of  linen,  will  be 
amply  sufficient.  The  strong  linen  blouse,  con- 
fined "by  a  leather  belt,  will  protect  it  from  the 
dust,  and  when  this  is  thrown  aside  on  entering 
a  city,  the  traveUer  makes  a  very  respectable 
appearance.  The  slouched  hat  of  finely-woven 
felt,  is  a  delightful  covering  to  the  head,  serving 
at  the  same  time  as  umbrella  or  night-cap, 
travelling  dress  or  visiting  costume.  No  one 
should  neglect  a  good  cane,  which,  besides  its 
feeling  of  companionship,  is  equal  to  from  three 
to  five  miles  a  day,  and  may  serve  as  a  defence 
against  banditti,  or  savage  Bohemian  dogs.  In 
the  Alps,  the  tall  staves,  pointed  with  iron,  and 
topped  with  a  curved  chamois  horn,  can  be 
bought  for  a  franc  apiece,  and  are  of  great 
assistance  in  crossing  ice-fields,  or  sustaining  the 
weight  of  the  body  in  descending  steep  and  diffi- 
cult passes. 

An  umbrella  is  inconvenient,  unless  it  is  short 
and  may  be  strapped  on  the  knapsack,  but  even 
then,  an  ample  cape  of  oiled  silk  or  India  rubber 
cloth  is  far  preferable.  The  pedestrian  need  not 
be  particular  in  this  respect ,  he  will  soon  grow 
accustomed  to  an  occasional  drenching,  and!  am 
not  sure  that  men,  like  plants,  do  not  thrive 
under  it,  when  they  have  outgrown  the  hot- 
house nature  of  civilization,  in  a  life  under  the 
open  heaven.  A  portfolio,  capable  of  hard  serv- 
ice with  a  guide-book  or  two,  pocket-compass 
and  spy-glass,  completes  the  contents  of  the 
knapsack,  though  if  there  is  still  a  small  corner  to 
spare,  I  would  recommend  that  it  be  filled  with 
pocket  editions  of  one  or  two  of  the  good  old 
English  classics.  It  is  a  rare  delight  to  sit  down 
in  the  gloomy  fastnesses  of  the  Hartz,  or  in  the 
breezy  valleys  of  Styria,  MI  id  read  the  majestic 
measures  of  our  glorious  bards.  Milton  is  first 
folly  appreciated,  when  you  look  up  from  hi* 


4W  VIEWS  A- FOOT. 

page  to  the  snowy  ramparts  of  the  Alps,  which 
shut  out  all  but  the  Heaven  of  whose  beauty  he 
sang;  and  all  times  and  places  are  fitting  for  the 
universal  Shakespeare.  Childe  Harold  bears 
euch  a  glowing  impress  of  the  scenery  on  which 
Byron's  eye  has  dwelt,  that  it  spuke  to  me  like 
the  answering  heart  of  a  friend,  from  the  crag  of 
Drachenfels,  in  the  rushing  of  the  arrowy  Khone^ 
and  beside  the  breathing  marbles  of  the  Vatican 
and  the  Capitol. 

A  little  facility  in  sketching  from  nature  is  a 
most  useful  and  delightful  accomplishment  for 
the  pedestrian.  He  may  bring  away  the  features 
of  wild  and  unvisited  landscapes,  the  pictur- 
esque fronts  of  peasant  cottages  and  wayside 
shrines,  or  the  simple  beauty  of  some  mountain 
child,  watching  his  herd  of  goats.  Though  hav- 
ing little  knowledge  and  no  practice  in  the  art, 
I  persevered  in  my  awkward  attempts,  and  was 
soon  able  to  take  a  rough  and  rapid,  but  toler- 
ably correct  outline  of  almost  any  scene.  These 
memorials  of  two  years  of  travel  have  now  a 
value  to  me,  which  I  would  not  exchange  for  the 
finest  engravings,  however  they  might  excel  in 
faithfuLrepresentation.  Another  article  of  equip- 
ment, which  I  had  almost  forgotten  to  mention, 
is  a  small  bottle  of  the  best  Cogniac,  with  which 
to  bathe  the  feet,  morning  and  evening,  for  the 
first  week  or  two,  or  as  long  as  they  continue 
tender  with  the  exercise.  It  was  also  very 
strengthening  and  refreshing,  when  the  body 
was  unusually  weary  with  a  long  day's  walking 
or  climbing,  to  use  as  an  outward  stimulant ; 
for  I  never  had  occasion  to  apply  it  internal!}'. 
Many  of  the  German  students  wear  a  wicker 
flask,  slung  over  their  shoulder,  containing 
kirschwasser,  which  the}'  mix  with  the  water  of 
the  mountain  streams,  but  this  is  not  at  all 
necessary  to  the  traveller's  health  and  comfort. 

These  students,  with  all  their  irregularities, 
are  a  noble,  warm-hearted  class,  and  make  tht 


A  C  CE  P  T  A N-  r  C  OMPA  A'SOlV.  477 

beet  companions  in  the  world.  During  the 
months  of  August  and  September,  hundreds  of 
them  ramble  through  Switzerland  and  the  Tyrol, 
extending  their  route  sometimes  to  Venice  and 
Rome.  With  their  ardent  love  for  every  thing 
republican,  they  will  alwaj-s  receive  an  American 
heartily,  consecrate  him  ae  a  bursch,  and  admit 
him  to  their  fellowship.  With  the  most  of  them, 
an  economy  of  expense  is  part  of  the  habit  of 
their  student-life,  and  they  are  only  spendthrifts 
on  the  articles  of  beer  and  tobacco.  A  month's 
residence  in  Heidelberg,  the  most  beautiful  place 
in  Germany,  will  serve  to  make  the  young 
American  acquainted  with  their  habits,  and  able 
to  join  them  for  an  adventurous  foot-journey, 
•with  the  greatest  advantage  to  himself! 

We  always  accepted  a  companion  of  whatever 
kind,  while  walking — from  chimney-sweeps  to 
barons.  In  a  strange  country  one  can  learn 
something  from  every  peasant,  and  we  neglected 
no  opportunity,  not  onlyio  obtain  information, 
but  to  impart  it.  We  found  every  where  great 
curiosity  respecting  America,  and  we  were  al- 
ways glad  to  tell  them  all  they  wished  to  know. 
In  Germany,  we  were  generally  taken  for  Ger- 
mans from  some  part  of  the  country  where  the 
dialect  was  a  little  different,  or,  if  they  remarked 
our  foreign  peculiarities,  they  supposed  we  were 
either  Poles,  Russians,  or  Swiss.  The  greatest 
ignorance  in  relation  to  America  prevails 
among  the  common  people.  They  imagine  we 
area  savage  race,  without  intelligence  ;md  al- 
most without  law.  Persons  of  education  who  had 
some  slight  knowledge  of  our  history,  showed 
a  curiosity  to  know  something'  of  our  political 
condition.  They  are  taught  by  the  German 
newspapers  (which  are  under  a  strict  censorship 
in  this  respect)  to  look  only  at  the  evil  in  our 
country,  and  they  almost  in  variably  began  by 
adverting  to  Slavery  and  Repudiation.  While 
we  admitted,  often  with  shame  and  mortification, 


476  VIEWS  A-F06T. 


existence  of  things  so  inconsistent  with  true 
republicanism,  we  endeavored  to  make  them 
comprehend  the  advantages  enjoyed  by  the  free 
citizen  —  the  complete  equality  of  birth  —  which 
places  America,  despite  her  sins,  far  above  any 
other  nation  on  earth.  I  could  plainly  see  i  iy 
the  kindling  eye  and  half-suppressed  sigh,  that 
they  appreciated  a  freedom  so  immeasurably 
greater  than  that  which  they  enjoyed. 

In  large  cities  we  always  preferred  to  take  the 
second  or  third-rate  hotels,  which  are  generally 
visited  by  merchants  and  persons  who  travel  on 
business  ;  for,  with  the  same  comforts  as  the  first 
rank,  they  are  nearly  twice  as  cheap.  Atrav 
eller,  with  a  guide-book  and  a  good  pair  of 
can  also  dispense  with  the  services  of  a  courier, 
whose  duty  it  is  to  conduct  strangers  about  iho 
city,  from  one  lion  to  another.  We  chose  rath«T 
to  find  out  and  view  the  "sights"  at  our  leisure. 
In  small  villages,  where  we  were  often  obliged  to 
stop,  we  chose  the  best  hotels,  which,  particu- 
larly in  Northern  Germany  and  in  Italy,  are  none 
too  good.  But  if  it  was-aposf,  that  is,  a  town 
where  the  post-chaise  stops  to  change  horses, 
we  usually  avoided  the  post-hotel,  where  one 
must  pay  high  for  having  curtains  before  his 
windows  and  a  more  elegant  cover  on  his  bed. 
In  the  less  splendid  country  inns,  we  always 
found  neat,  comfortable  lodging,  and  a  pleasant, 
friendly  reception  from  the  people.  They  saluted 
us  on  entering,  with  "Be  you  welcome,"  and  on 
leaving,  wished  us  a  pleasant  journey  and  good 
fortune.  The  host,  when  he  brought  us  supper 
or  breakfast,  lifted  his  cap,  and  wished  us  a 
good  appetite  —  and  when  he  lighted  us  to  our 
chambers,  left  us  with  ''May  you  sleep  well!" 
We  generally  found  honest,  friendly  people; 
they  delighted  in  telling  us  about  the  country 
around  ;  what  ruins  there  were  in  the  neighbor- 
hood —  and  what  strange  legends  were  connected 
with.  them.  The  only  part  of  Europe  where  it  is 


IffffS  AND  PASSPORTS.  479 

unpleasant  to  travel  in  this  manner,  is  Bohemia. 
We  could  scarcely  find  a  comfortable  inn;  the 
people  all  spoke  an  unknown  language,  and 
were  not  particularly  celebrated  for  their  hon- 
esty. Beside  this,  travellers  rarely  go  on  foot  in 
those  regions;  we  were  frequently  taken  for 
travelling  handwerker,  and  subjected  to  imposi- 
tion. 

With  regard  to  passports,  although  they  were 
vexatious  and  often  expensive,  we  found  little 
difficulty  when  we  had  acquainted  ourselves 
with  the  regulations  concerning  them.  In  France 
and  Germany  they  are  comparatively  little 
trouble;  in  Italy  they  are  the  traveller's  greatest 
annoyance.  Americans  are  treated  with  less 
strictness,  in  this  respect,  than  citizens  of  other 
nations,  and,  owing  to  the  absence  of  rank 
among  us,  they  also  enjoy  greater  advantages 
of  acquaintance  and  intercourse. 

The  expenses  of  travelling  in  England,  although 
much  greater  than  in  our  own  country,  may,  as 
we  learned  by  experience,  be  brought,  through 
economy,  within  the  same  compass.  Indeed,  it 
is  my  belief,  from  observation,  that,  with  few 
exceptions,  throughout  Europe,  where  a  trav- 
eller enjoys  the  same  comfort  and  abundance 
as  in  America,  he  must  pay  the  same  prices. 
The  principal  difference  is,  that  he  only  pays  for 
what  he  gets,  so  that,  if  he  be  content  with  the 
necessities  of  life,  without  its  luxuries,  the 
expense  is  in  proportion. 

The  best  coin  for  the  traveller's  purpose,  is 
English  gold,  which  passes  at  a  considerable 
premium  on  the  Continent,  and  is  readily 
accepted  at  all  the  principal  hotels.  Having  to 
earn  my  means  as  I  went  along,  I  was  obliged 
to  have  money  forwarded  in  small  remittances, 

rnerally  in  drafts  on  the  house  of  Hottingeur 
Co.,  in  Paris,  which  could  be  cashed  in  any 
large  city  of  Europe.    If  only  a  short  tour  is 
intent  led.  and  the  pedestrian's  means  are 


480  VIEWS  A-FOOT. 

he  maj  easily  carry  the  necessary  amount  with 
him.  There  is  little  danger  of  robbery  for  those 
who  journey  in  such  an  humble  style.  I  never 
lost  a  single  article  in  this  manner,  and  rarely 
had  'any  feeling  but  that  of  perfect  security. 
No  part  of  our  own  country  is  safer  in  this 
respect  than  Germany,  Switzerland  or  France. 
Italy  still  bears  an  unfortunate  reputation  for 
honesty;  the  defiles  of  the  Apennines  and  the 
hollows  of  the  Rom  an  Cam  pagn  a  are  haunted  by 
banditti,  and  persons  who  travel  in  their  own 
carriages  are  often  plundered.  1  saw  the  caves 
and  hiding-places  of  these  outlaws  among  the 
evergreen  shrubbery,  in  the  pass  of  Monte 
Somma,  near  Spoleto,  but  as  we  had  a  dragoon 
in  the  crazy  old  vehicle,  we  feared  no  hindrance 
from  them.  A  Swedish  gentleman  in  Rome  told 
me  he  had  walked  from  Ancona,  through  the 
mountains  to  the  Eternal  City,  partly  by  night, 
but  that,  although  he  met  with  many  weaning 
faces,  he  was  not  disturbed  in  any  way.  An 
English  artist  of  my  acquaintance  walked  from 
Leghorn  along  the  Tuscan  and  Tyrrhene  coast 
to  Civita  Vecchia,  through  a  barren  and  savage 
district,  overgrown  with  aloes  and  cork-trees, 
without  experiencing  any  trouble,  except  from 
the  extreme  curiosity  of  the  ignorant  inhabit- 
ants. The  fastnesses  of  the  Abruzzi  have  been 
explored  with  like  facility  by  daring  pedestrians; 
indeed,  the  sight  of  a  knapsack  seems  to  serve 
as  a  free  passport  with  all  highwaymen. 

I  have  given,  at  times,  through  the  foregoing 
chapters,  the  cost  of  portions  of  my  journey  and 
residence  in  various  cities  of  Europe.  The 
cheapest  country  for  travelling,  as  far  as  my 
experience  extended,  is  Southern  Germany, 
where  one  can  travel  comfortably  on  twenty-five 
cents  a  day.  Italy  and  the  south  of  France 
come  next  in  order,  and  are  but  little  more 
expensive;  then  follow  Switzerland  and  North- 
ern Germany,  and  lastly,  Great  Britain.  The 


VIEWS    A-FOOT.  4*1 

cheapest  city,  and  one  of  the  pleasantest  in  th« 
world,  is  Florence,  where  we  breakfasted  on  five 
cents,  dined  sumptuously  on  twelve,  and  went  to 
a  good  opera  for  ten.  A  man  would  find  no 
difficulty  in  spending  a  year  there,  for  about 
$250.  This  fact  may  be  of  some  importance  to 
those  whose  health  requires  such  a  stay,  yet  are 
kept  back  from  attempting  the  voyage  through 
fear  of  the  expense.  Counting  the  passage  to 
Leghorn  at  fifty  or  sixty  dollars,  it  will  be  seen 
how  little  is  necessary  for  a  year's  enjoyment  of 
the  sweet  atmosphere  of  Italy.  In  addition  to 
these  particulars,  the  following  connected  esti- 
mate will  better  show  the  minimum  expense  cf  a 
two  year's  pilgrimage : 

Voyage  to  Liverpool,  in  the  second  cabin $24  00 

Three  weeks'  travel  in  Ireland  and  Scotland 25  00 

A  week  in  London,  at  three  shillings  a  day 4  50 

From  London  to  Heidelberg 15  00 

A  month  at  Heidelberg,  and  trip  to  Frankfort 20  00 

Seven  months  in  Frankfort,  at  $10  per  month 70  00 

Fuel,  passports,  excursions  and  other  expenses 30  00 

Tour  through  Cassel,  the  Hartz,  Saxony,  Austria, 

Bavaria,  &c 40  00 

A  month  in  Frankfort 10  00 

From  Frankfort  through  Switzerland,  and  over  the 

Alps  to  Milan 15  00 

From  Milan  to  Genoa 60 

Expenses  from  Genoa  to  Florence 14  00 

Four  months  in  Florence  60  00 

Eight  days'  journey  from  Florence  to  Rome,  two 

weeks  in    Rome,   voyage    to    Marseilles,  and 

journey  to  Paris 40  00 

Five  weeks  in  Paris 15  00 

From  Paris  to  London 8  00 

Six  weeks  in  London,  at  three  shillings  a  day 31  00 

Passage  home 60  00 

$472  00 

The  cost  for  places  of  amusement,  guides' 
fees,  and  other  small  expenses,  not  included  in 
this  list,  increases  the  sum  total  to  $500,  for 
which  the  tour  may  be  made,.  Now  having,  I 
hope,  established  this  to  the  reader's  satiufao 
tiou,  I  respectfully  take  leave  of  him. 


DATE  DUE 


CAYLCRD 


:GIONAL  LIBRARY  FACIL1TJ 


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